A Light in the Dark
by skygirl55
Summary: Finding another living, breathing human being in the post-apocalyptic world was not just difficult, but impossible. Kate Beckett never expected to find anyone, let alone Richard Castle. After saving him from certain death, they form an alliance, which soon leads to the realization from both of them that they finally found a reason to keep living. Caskett AU/ZombieApocolypse
1. Chapter 1

_Finding another living, breathing human being in the post-apocalyptic world was not just an difficult task, but an impossible one. Kate Beckett never expected to find anyone, let alone Richard Castle. After saving him from certain death, they form an alliance, which soon leads to the realization from both of them that they finally found a reason to keep living. Caskett AU/Zombie Apocalypse_

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 _ **A/N:** I've been trying to write a zombie apocalypse fic for a while and i finally found a premise that worked. Hope you enjoy **.** There will be 14 chapters :)_

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 **ONE**

Kate Beckett sighed as she gazed out the small circular window looking out across the seemingly never-ending forest of identical trees. A crow swooped down into her line of vision and alighted onto the branch of a nearby tree, its feathers ruffling in the breeze. Kate watched it as it was the closest thing she had to visual entertainment that afternoon; another day in paradise.

Born and raised in Manhattan, Kate never expected to wake up to the sounds of chirping birds not honking vehicles, to smell the morning dew on leaves and not the rotting garbage from the streets, to see leaves and twigs and not a spec of concrete in sight. Sure, for short periods of time when she was on vacation it had happened, but for over one hundred days straight? The treehouse was beginning to feel like home, or as much as a home as she could have or might ever have again.

Seven months earlier—before the virus—she had been living her life in the city. Getting up, going to work, spending her days seeking justice for those whose lives had been stolen from them. She honestly never thought there would be a time when she wasn't a detective, when she wasn't living in the greatest city in the world.

Evidently, the world had other plans.

A groan and scraping noise called Kate's attention away from her absentminded observation of the crow. She moved from the porthole-style window to the opposite side of the treehouse where a glass French door led out to a small balcony seated twelve feet above the ground. Cautiously, Kate wrapped her fingers around the handle and swung the door open slow enough that a squeak could not be heard from its hinges. One step out onto the deck and she saw it.

Shuffling its way along the leaf and moss covered ground several hundred feet from her treetop haven was a mangled figure. Male judging by the large frame and short hair—well, the hair on what was left of the scalp, anyway. The figure's clothes were ragged and torn, as though he were homeless or playing a hobo in one of Manhattan's many stage productions, but this man was no actor. He wasn't even a man; not anymore.

Kate would never forget the moment she saw her first reanimated corpse. It was burned permanently in her mind's eye just as plain as the other life-altering events were. Sure, she had heard the rumors, but they sounded like sheer lunacy. People coming back from the dead? Wasn't possible. There had to be an explanation—an actual, legitimate, medical explanation. Like, for instance, the victims weren't actually completely dead, therefore they were not alive _again_ but alive _still_. Besides, all those rumors were filtering in from the west coast and who knew how altered the stories could become after traveling three thousand miles.

Seven months earlier, standing in the New York City Medical Examiner's office, Kate spoke with her colleague and friend, ME Lanie Parish, about a victim found in Central Park. The man possessed no outward signs of trauma or wounds of any kind, yet he was dead. As they mulled over the possibilities, the body began to elicit sounds and move its limbs. Both women were stunned and remained frozen for thirty seconds before Lanie began lamenting that she was _certain_ the victim had been dead. As they watched, the man began to writhe and move on the examination table and Lanie reached out to calm him down. With sheer horror, Kate watched as the man grabbed Lanie's hand with incredible strength and sunk his teeth into the flesh of her forearm. The bloodcurdling scream from her friend as the victim gnawed on her muscle and bone would haunt Kate until her dying day.

Even after Lanie succumbed to her wounds forty-eight hours later, Kate still could hardly fathom it. A strain of the flu, the doctors had called it, made worse by an extra cold, extra damp winter. Kate's gut told her it was something else right from the start and, come March, once the snow had melted and the population had been cut down by nearly a third, the altered state of the world told her that her gut was, most unfortunately, right.

Hovering near the edge of the deck, Kate watched the zombie migrate across her de facto back yard. When a rock in the ground altered his path, she could see the exposed bone of his lower jaw; most of his teeth appeared to be jagged and broken off. She wondered if he'd done it on his own by biting down on clothing or metal not meant to be eaten, or if someone had done it to him by trying to fight him off. Either way with limited teeth he was a limited threat—especially from up in her treehouse.

With a slow exhale, Kate turned to enter the shelter again. As the breeze was atypically cool for midsummer, she decided to leave the French door open to air out the stifling atmosphere inside the treehouse. The moment the electricity had turned off for good four months earlier Kate knew it would undoubtedly be the thing she missed most. The week prior, when the temperature had been a sweltering ninety-three for four days in a row, she knew she would have given her life's worth for air conditioning. Unfortunately, that was a wish that would remain unfulfilled so she could only hope she adapted quickly to her new version of normal.

For the next ten minutes, she wandered aimlessly around her space, straightening a few things that had fallen into disorder, brushing some dust off a bookshelf with a dry cloth. She was just about to settle down with a book when she heard another undead grunt. That time, however, it was accompanied by a voice that was most certainly still human.

"No! Shit! Shit!"

In an instant, Kate hopped into action. She grabbed her gun from the centrally located table and charged out onto the balcony to observe the scene taking place in the clearing. Several yards away a man stood with his back to her as he faced his two undead assailants. One, a woman, dressed in what were once lavender pajamas but now were marked with filth every few inches, was clearly an adult, but either the man was very tall or she was very small (or some combination thereof) because the top of her head barely reached his shoulders. He was able to keep her at bay by continually shoving at her stomach with his raised foot.

The man's central focus was on his other attacker. As the man's head blocked her view, Kate could not determine the gender of the second zombie, but she guessed male due to stature. She could hear the snapping of that zombie's teeth and watched as his arms clawed out towards his would-be victim. Though Kate readied her pistol, she could see the man had a large knife in his right hand and was attempting to stab the larger of the two zombies through its eye socket. He missed several times but ultimately hit his mark and the zombie crumpled to the ground, now silent. Turning towards the smaller attacker, the man repeated the process with the woman until she too no longer growled or writhed.

Kate observed the man now safe from imminent danger as he turned so that he was side-on to her. She could see a straggly beard that appeared to be several shades lighter than the hair on his head. This led her to presume it was peppered with white or gray hair. He wore a red and blue plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled at the cuffs and jeans that appeared torn at the knee. Slung over one shoulder was a khaki colored backpack that hung quite limp against his back. He took one step and then two towards the tree that held her house and then, much to her shock, he dropped to his knees in the moss. A moment later, his knife hit the ground and he began to sob.

In the beginning, Kate had seen many varied reactions to the need to damage the brain of a zombie so it was no longer a threat. Emotional reactions like crying or physical reactions like vomiting were common, but this nightmare had been going on for over six months; these could hardly be the first two undead he'd taken out.

Kate remembered her first; a colleague of hers at the twelfth precinct she found moaning and groaning in a bathroom. Granted, at that time, the cop in her chose a gun to be the weapon of choice. Guns were detached; guns were easier. Unfortunately, guns were also loud, and, as time went on, ammunition was limited. Thus, she had to switch to a knife as well, and the first time she'd pierced a skull it had made her stomach flip, but she'd gotten over it. The only time she'd truly been upset was when she had to take out a child zombie she estimated to be around twelve. The child was biting at her without prejudice, so she had no choice. Still, it had made her curse the world for what it had become, so in that respect she could understand the man's emotional response.

Several moments after he began to cry, Kate could hear what sounded like him speaking or praying. He was still about a hundred feet from her, so it was hard to make out clearly, but the gist quickly became plain.

"Please. I can't take this anymore. I can't. I just want it to stop."

His begging caused the hairs on the back of Kate's neck to stand up. What had this man seen or been through to make him think that way? Had he lost a wife and children? Had he been a victim of some sort of robbery or attack? Kate had heard the stories and witnessed cruelty on several occasions, which was the main reason she kept to herself in her treehouse; it was yet another reason to hate the degraded state of the planet.

Cautiously, Kate took a step further out onto the balcony to get a better look. Her eyes fell on his knapsack, now hanging from the crook of his elbow, and how it crumpled against the ground. If he had any food or water in it, there certainly wasn't much. She considered helping him—tossing a few water bottles and a box of protein bars off the balcony edge—but wondered if he'd see them. The treehouse was incredibly difficult to see from the ground level—which, as it happened, was one of the main reasons she liked it so much—so she would probably be able to help him without revealing her location, but would he find the goods or would her attempt be fruitless?

Just as she was contemplating her options, more groaning caught her attention. She moved to the far corner of the balcony to be able to see around the edge of the treehouse and spotted a sight that made a cold sweat break out on her forehead. A herd of at least a dozen undead were moving through the forest and headed directly towards the kneeling man.

"Get up." She coached under her breath. "Get up and move; you can still get away."

But the man was a statue. The zombies were quickly closing in on him and he remained in his kneeling position, his arms limp at his sides.

"Damn it—get up! What are you doing?!" She spoke a little louder that time, though not nearly loud enough for the man to hear her.

The growls and grumblings grew louder as the zombies drew nearer. Surely the man had to have heard them. Surely he must have known what was about to happen. Was he truly giving up? Would he just let them destroy him?

Kate weighed her decision for half a second, but decided she couldn't simply watch the man be torn apart. With skill she flipped the safety off on her weapon, braced her forearms against the railing of the balcony, and fired two quick shots. Both met their target and shattered the skulls of the two zombies at the front of the pack.

The echoing gunfire in the clearing evidently terrified the man back to reality. He yelped, leapt to his feet, and took off running, leaving behind both his knife and knapsack. He sprinted while looking behind him not forward and thus only ran for a few hundred feet before his right shoulder clipped a tree branch and he was sent sprawling to the forest floor.

"Shit." Kate cursed under her breath. She ran back into the treehouse, stuffing her gun into the back of her shorts as she went, and flipped open the trap door in the floor a few feet away. She heaved out the rope ladder and waited for it to hang straight before beginning her decent, still not entirely sure what compelled her to save this man.

The moment her feet landed on the ground, Kate fought the urge to clamp her hands over her mouth and nose. The pile of corpses she'd lined up at the base of her tree did wonders for keeping most of the zombies away—not to mention any humans that might happen to pass by. The smell wasn't even that bad up in the treehouse, but every time she had to descend to ground level _especially_ in the summer heat it was an exercise in strengthening her gag reflex.

Knowing she had to focus, Kate took a quick breath in through her mouth and hopped the zombie protective line before sprinting off towards the man. She shot two more approaching zombies before finding the man pushing himself up from the ground with shaky arms. "C'mon! Get up!" she commanded of him.

Presumably startled, the man fell flat again, rolled onto his right shoulder and gazed up at her as though she were the Ghost of Christmas Future. When Kate's gaze met his ice blue eyes she was struck with an odd sense of familiarity, yet she in no other way recognized this man.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

She ignored his question; this was no time for introductions. "Just get up; c'mon!" Annoyed at his lack of movement, she reached down, grabbed his arm, and pulled as hard as she could to aid him in getting to his feet. By that point, the zombie line was closing in, but with two additional well aimed shots she gave them enough clearance to race back to the rope ladder.

"Go; I'll hold them back."

The man tentatively placed a hand on the ladder rung and asked, "Is this a tree house?"

Good lord! What was with the questions!? Did this man have no concern for his personal safety? Annoyed she grunted, "Jesus just get inside!" while holding her weapon at the ready. Fortunately, he did as instructed and after picking off one too close for comfort zombie, she jumped up on the ladder and scurried her way to safety.

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With a grunt, Richard Castle hoisted himself up off the rope ladder and onto the wooden floorboards of the treehouse. He rolled onto his back on the floor to give his mysterious saviors room to ascend. Then, gasping, he rested his palm flat against his chest and attempted to calm his heart rate. He honestly could not remember the last time he climbed a rope ladder; he probably hadn't since he was a child, but he definitely did not remember them being that tricky. Then again, perhaps it was not as much the difficulty of the ladder as it was the fact that he hadn't eaten in several days.

When he heard the ladder rattling against the trap door opening, Rick lifted his head just enough to see over the edge to see that the woman was ascending and, thankfully, there were no zombies on her tail. Exhaling with relief, he rested his head back against the floor, shut his eyes and took a few more deep breaths to reflect on the prior ten minutes of his life.

Traipsing through the wilderness of Northern New Jersey, his needs had been basic: food, water, and a place to rest that night. He had no idea if he was traveling in a straight trajectory or simply wandering around in the same circle over and over again, but he knew he had to keep moving or he'd die. Ironically, by that morning, placing one foot in front of the other had seriously begun to feel as though it were killing him.

His fifth attack from the undead in as many days was enough to break him. He was hot, tired, and starved. He had no idea how many days had passed since the last time he'd been robbed of his belongings, but he guessed it had been around a week. The days ran together, particularly as his level of consciousness diminished. Fortunately, he had found the knapsack containing a water bottle and two unbelievably stale candy bars. Without it, he surely would have been dead. Still, he was barely living.

Wandering around like he had been, there was no guarantee of finding any of the three things he desired most and with the exertion he needed to stave off his latest attackers, Rick's tank had been drained well past the "E" line and so he'd collapsed and broken down. He was ready; he was done.

This world—the one that had once been so full of positivity and hope—was no longer one he wanted to live in. Even after the worst had happened, he never considered giving up, but at that point he had no idea how much worse the "worst case scenario" could become. He truly didn't know if he had the energy to fight another day. Besides, even if he had all the internal motivation in the world (which at that point, he did not) he knew that soon his lack of nutrition would do him in.

When he'd heard the zombies in the distance, Rick had faced a moment of calm. He didn't know how many there were—clearly, more than one, and that was all he needed to know. Perhaps, that was the moment he would choose; it would take away the wonder; it would be on his terms. He wouldn't have to face the knife or gun of another human trying to steal what was left of his meager possessions in the world. He wouldn't wake up to the feeling of one of them gnawing on his flesh. It could just be over and, in that moment, over felt like the best alternative. Then, she'd happened.

It had all happened so quickly. The gunshot he felt certain was targeted at him. His flight response, crashing into that damned tree and then, suddenly, like an angel sent from the heavens she had appeared. She had saved him and—dare he think it—given him a second chance.

When the woman's head appeared above the trap door, Rick sat up and pushed himself out of the way, giving her clearance to climb into the treehouse. She did so with a hundred times more ease than he, and then turned quickly to hoist the rope ladder back up into their haven. Rick reached out a hand to help her, but with his energy depleted he feared he was making it worse, so he merely moved across from her so he could slam the trap door shut once the ladder was clear. With this task complete he looked up at her and asked, "Who are you?"

"Shh!" She hissed over his last word. Then, in a whisper she said, "We need to stay quiet until they pass."

Rick nodded and sat back on his haunches, using their moments of quiet to observe both his savior and his surroundings.

The interior of the treehouse was unlike one he had ever seen before. While it was wooden and rustic as he would have expected, it was also expansive with a seating area consisting of a loveseat and two chairs and adjoining dining area, which contained a four seater table. If he was not mistaken, in the opposite corner there was also a kitchenette. Though he sat on the floor, he believed he could see a sink, which made him instantly curious as to where the water came from.

When his eyes landed on the woman across from him, Rick was almost left breathless from her beauty. Her brown hair was pulled up into a ponytail near the top of her head. Her makeup-free skin was dotted with freckles, which made her seem young and carefree. He estimated her to be around thirty years old, maybe a few years younger. Though her prominent cheek bones and pink lips were stunning, her hazel eyes were what attracted him. She was strong, determined and, if he was not mistaken, sad. He certainly could relate to that final emotion—one hundred percent.

For the better part of ten minutes they sat on the floor until the woman began to move. She climbed slowly to her feet and walked over to the glass door and opened it carefully. It was only then that Rick realized the treehouse must have had a deck or balcony. Clambering to his feet, he followed her and hovered at the edge of the doorway as she gazed over the deck's railing.

"There's two hanging around by your bag; they'll probably wander off soon."

Rick nodded. "Okay."

"Would you like some water?"

He fought the urge to drop to his knees and plead with her. Instead, his throat feeling as dry as ever, he croaked, "Please. If you have some to spare."

When the woman nodded and walked towards the kitchen area, Rick wandered out onto the balcony to take in the view. Though his attention had clearly been elsewhere as he approached, Rick would have liked to think that a treehouse the size of this one would have been noticeable to him. It was only outside that he realized why it hadn't been. Instead of having a normal wooden or siding exterior, the exterior of that treehouse was camouflaged with branches and leaves. Thus, someone not paying attention on the ground would have had a difficult time noticing it amongst the other foliage in the forest.

"Here you go."

Castle turned and accepted the small water bottle she held out graciously however, the moment his hands closed around the bottle's neck he gasped and nearly dropped it from shock. "It's cold!" he observed aloud. Strange as it was to think, he had not felt anything cold in months—not since the electricity went out. Seeing as they were in the middle of summer, he doubted he would feel anything cold again until the winter months set in.

She pointed upwards and explained. "Solar panels on the roof means a little bit of electricity on a sunny day like today. The fridge seems kind of like a waste, but I'm no electrician. I don't know how to redirect the power, plus I'm not sure what I'd direct it to, so cold water on a hot day seems just as good a use of any."

"It's amazing!" Rick proclaimed before guzzling down half the bottle in just two gulps. Though he still wanted food, the chilled water was an amazing lift to his spirits. He finished the remainder of the bottle in three swallows before asking the woman once again, "Who are you?"

"Ah," she said, brushing a stray strand of hair back up towards her ponytail. "I'm Kate."

"Rick," he said, holding out his hand to shake hers. She grasped his for a moment before turning and walking back into the treehouse.

 _Kate_. So his savoir had a name—a beautiful name. His interest in her really was expanding by the second. Ducking back inside, he found her reaching up into the cabinets over the counter.

"You're not allergic to peanuts are you?"

"No. Why?" he responded. Without words, she tossed him a single serve packet of the nuts which he grabbed from the air with delight. After thanking her, he ripped open the pack and dumped a third of it into his mouth, chewing them as fast as his jaw could work. Even though they were plain and barely salted, he'd never tasted anything so delicious!

"So, um," he began after chewing through his first handful of nuts, "are you here by yourself?"

"Yes."

"You're not traveling with a group?"

"Not anymore. You?"

"Same." He confirmed with a nod. After throwing another batch of peanuts into his mouth, Rick considered the woman before him. She was a female alone in their post-apocalyptic society. Given what he'd seen, he felt concern for her safety. Then again, the way she'd taken out those zombies made it clear she could take care of herself. Still, her body language told him she was guarded and he couldn't blame her being that he was a total stranger, so he decided to explain his situation further in the hopes of putting her at ease.

"I was… I left Manhattan with my mother and daughter after it all went south, but they were both killed."

Kate winced and shook her head. "I'm very sorry to hear that. Was it recent?"

He dumped a few more peanuts into his hand and rolled them against his palm absentmindedly. "Ah, no. The days kind of blur together and I haven't been keeping track but I'm guessing at least a few months." With that, he threw the nuts into his mouth and turned away, hoping for a change of subject. The day he lost the two women he loved most—the one he easily regarded as the worst day of his life—was not one he wanted to talk about in any great detail.

As he finished off his peanuts, Rick heard a peculiar howling sound. It did not entirely sound like one of the undead, but it was definitely animalistic. Confused, he gazed out the glass door only to hear, "It's not out there," from Kate. Turning around he asked. "What?"

"That noise—it's Tux."

"What's a tux?" he responded.

She smiled and walked to the opposite corner of the room where there was a doorway he'd presumed led to a closet. Instead, she opened it, bent down, and stood up holding a black and white cat in her arms. "This is Tux." On cue, the cat let out a yowl that was surprisingly loud for a creature so small.

Rick's brow wrinkled. "Did you, um, bring your cat with you when you left home?"

"No." The woman let out a breathy chuckle before setting the struggling feline onto the ground. His tail flicked back and forth a few times before he crossed the room and began to sniff Rick's shoes and the cuffs of his pants with great interest. "I found him shut up in a house screaming his head off. His owners had left him five bowls of water and food. Not exactly sure what they were thinking, but he was almost out when I found him. And, I dunno." She shrugged and gave a fond glance towards the cat, which was now inching its way towards the balcony. "I probably shouldn't be wasting water on him, but he doesn't drink that much and it's not like I'm going to eat his cat food. Besides, he's funny."

"Good at jokes, is he?" Rick asked.

She shook her head. "No, he likes to play with his tail; it's amusing."

Rick watched the cat give up on his quest outdoors and instead prop himself against a wall and lick his hind legs. He'd never owned a pet, but given the horrors of what was transpiring around them, he couldn't say he faulted Kate for wanting a source of amusement, no matter how small. "Tux…short for Tuxedo?" he guessed upon taking note of the cat's white chest and black shoulders and back.

Kate hummed. "He didn't have a collar when I found him so I don't know what his name was before, but he responds to it now."

Again, Rick gazed around the treehouse. She had food, water, and even a pet. Clearly, Kate had been in this treehouse for more than just a few weeks, though from the way she spoke he presumed she was not its original owner. Curious as to her backstory, he asked, "About how long have you been here?"

"Sixty nine days."

Rick's brow rose at her specific answer. "You're keeping track?"

She walked over to the seating area and picked up a booklet from the table beside the couch. When she held it up, he realized it was a calendar. The prospect of being able to find the exact date was both exciting and terrifying to Rick. In a way, living with little concept of time almost made it more bearable, but in the end, he wanted to know what day it was, so he asked.

"July sixth." She told him.

Rick nodded. Okay, the date wasn't as shocking as he anticipated. He'd ball parked the day around midsummer so he had not been that far off at all. It was truly terrifying how short a period of time it took for the world to fall apart.

"Well, um, thanks for the food and water; you have no idea how much I appreciate it. If you wouldn't mind helping with the rope ladder I'll-"

"Actually," she cut him off, taking a step towards him. "You could stay if you wanted. On the couch—tonight."

Rick opened his mouth to respond, but nothing but unintelligible stammering exited. Was she…serious? They had barely met half an hour prior and knew almost nothing about one another yet she was willing to give him the unbelievably precious gift of shelter for the night. Maybe the world wasn't a completely terrible place after all.

"Kate, I…I'd appreciate that very much—you have no idea—but are you sure?"

She flashed him a rather wry smile. "You kind of look like you need a good nights sleep, Rick."

He all but laughed. "Desperately. But I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

She shrugged. "It's not a problem. Besides, ah." She paused and walked back into the kitchenette area, pulled open one of the cabinets and stepped back to allow him to view the stacks of packaged items. "I have plenty of food if you're still hungry."

Rick could feel the saliva forming in his mouth and prayed he wouldn't end up drooling in front of the beautiful woman. He'd never seen a sight more glorious than a cabinet full of food. "Yeah, uh, I could definitely eat a bit more but I…I have nothing to give you in return." His voice dropped as he spoke, certain the woman would turn him away if he could not offer anything insofar as a trade, but she surprised him once again by shaking her head and offering a smile.

"Don't worry about it; I'm just glad I can help."


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews and follows! It should come as no surprise when I say I am a big Walking Dead fan, which was part of the inspiration for this. But I also just like a really, really good post-apocalyptic scenario. I'm not much of a sci-fi/horror writer, though, so the zombie presence is limited - just wanted to let you know since some of you expressed you're not big zombie fans._

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 **TWO**

The following morning as she always did, Kate awoke with the first light, which at that time of year was around five thirty in the morning. Naturally, it was frustrating to be awake at such an early hour when there was no shift to rush off to or no real place to be, but it did enable her to get up and get moving to get things done before the heat of mid-day set in. Not sweating under the blistering July sun was always preferable.

Kate arched her back and stretched before she felt two paws press against her rib cage. Like always, Tux awoke even earlier and waited for her to stir so he could beg for his breakfast. She sighed and reached out a hand to scratch his ear as he began to purr.

While absentmindedly stroking the feline, Kate thought about the man sleeping in the room beside hers. The prior night as he'd consumed a protein bar, a snack-size bag of pretzels and her last Snickers bar they hadn't talked about much in the way of personal details. She didn't know his last name or his profession before the world as they knew it ended. Mostly, they'd talked about his most recent experiences.

Rick had explained to her that after the death of his mother and daughter he'd been trying to get back into the city, having no other place to go. On his way, he'd run across a group of ten made up of two families with children and two more single people they'd picked up along the way. He'd thought they would be a good group to stay with and they were for a while. When they ran out of food, however, they split up. Shortly after leaving them he'd found enough food to supply him for a few weeks, but the very next night he'd been robbed. He'd estimated that had been a week or ten days earlier. Since then, his access to food and water had been limited at best.

Kate sympathized with his story and imagined there were many others out there wandering around with similar tales. She was one of the lucky ones who hadn't had to fight or forage for too long. Every morning she woke up to a well-stocked cabinet was she was incredibly thankful for.

After he'd sheepishly confessed to being too tired to continue chatting, she'd let him stretch out on the couch and retired to the bedroom to read until the light disappeared. Granted, with Tux walking all over her lap looking for attention, she didn't get much reading done, but that was okay; her thoughts were consumed with Rick.

Upon hearing his tale, Kate felt even happier about her decision to allow him to stay the night. She appreciated his trepidation, but she had not once second thought the choice for fear of her own safety. She was armed with a weapon that was second nature to use, but she knew she wouldn't need it. She had seen the relief in his eyes when she'd give him water and food. He never asked for more, but instead thanked her profusely. She saw in him the exact feelings she'd had herself when she found the treehouse: a desperate need for a break from the living nightmare the world had become.

Lying in bed, Kate considered how to proceed with regards to her guest. As per her invitation, she was certain he had plans to leave her treehouse that morning and move on. She would, of course, provide him with food and water before he left if he chose to go, but the more she thought about it, Kate thought it might be beneficial for him to stay.

She had been in the treehouse a little more than two months and it was an almost perfect oasis, all things considered. Yet, there were still things she wanted to do to make it more inhabitable long term. At the very least her rainwater collection system needed upgraded. With all she wanted to accomplish, she knew having an extra pair of hands would make the tasks easier. Plus, there were some things she simply couldn't do because they required a second person or because, as much as it pained her to admit it, she simply wasn't physically strong enough to accomplish them solo.

When Tux's subtle meows turned into full on howls, Kate pushed herself from bed and quickly changed into clean underwear and a fresh t-shirt before pulling on her jean shorts. Unfortunately, the days of waking up with a morning shower and a warm cup of coffee had long since passed. After slipping her shoes back on and tucking her gun into the back of her shorts, she followed the impatient feline back out into the main area of the treehouse.

Kate's eyes immediately drifted towards the couch and she was shocked to find it completely vacant. Her gaze traveled towards the trap door and she saw that it was indeed open. Disappointed, she took a half step back and nearly landed on Tux's tiny toes. Rick had gone? Without even bothering to say goodbye? That was certainly disappointing.

Still somewhat shocked, Kate walked to the cabinet and pulled out one of Tux's cans of food. She opened it absentmindedly, dumped it on a paper plate and put it on the ground for him. Just as she was about to walk out onto the balcony to see if she could see her former guest, the rope ladder rattled against the edge of the trap door.

Fearful it was a zombie that had breached her line, Kate pulled her gun from her shorts and hurried over to the door. Much to her relief, her guest was not undead, but very much alive.

"Whoa don't shoot!"

"Sorry." She sighed and put her gun away. "I thought you'd left and wasn't sure who or what was coming up the ladder."

"No, I—oof, does that ever get easier?" He lamented when he flung his body up onto the floor of the treehouse. Pushing himself upright he looked at her and said, "Sorry, I just needed to, ah, use the facilities and I didn't think this place had a bathroom."

"Actually…"

"Seriously!?"

Kate laughed at the way his jaw dropped and shoulders rounded. "Honestly, calling it a bathroom it's the absolute loosest use of the term. It's a toilet and sink on the other side of that wall," she said, gesturing towards the kitchen area, "but I don't really use it unless it's dark."

"How does it work? Where does the water come from? I'm assuming this isn't your treehouse. That is, you're not the original owner?"

She shook her head. "Definitely not. As for how it works…construction isn't exactly my forte, but the best I can tell is that a water line was run underground from the main house and then water was pumped up into a holding tank in the bathroom area. Pump doesn't work anymore, obviously, but I've been filling the tank with rainwater. As for what happens when you flush the toilet—septic tank? I'm guessing, but that's why I hardly use it—I don't really want to find out how it works by it not working." The absolute last thing she needed was her treetop safe house being ruined by a sewage backup. Still, she was grateful for the bathroom because fumbling around after nightfall with flashlights behind trees had become old after just a few days.

"Gotcha." He nodded. Then, he dropped his knapsack onto the ground and slid his hands down into the pockets of pants she assumed were once khaki, but now were nearly unrecognizable due to stains and dirt.

"So, um, breakfast?" Kate asked as she walked back towards the kitchen area.

"Oh, um, I don't want to put you out. Really, you've been hospitable enough. If I could just trouble you for a bottle of water then-"

"Rick." She cut him off, not even considering his attempt to leave, especially after how sad she'd been when she thought he was gone. "Sit; we're having breakfast."

With a half-smile, he nodded and approached the small kitchen table. Instead of sitting, he watched her move towards the kitchen and begin her well-practiced routine of getting out the hot plate and pan and then retrieving their two breakfast items from the refrigerator, now barely cool after eight hours without solar power.

"Are those…eggs?"

At the amazement in his tone, Kate turned around and smiled at him. "They are."

He looked at the two eggs, then back at her, and then back at the eggs before stammering. "Bu-but how!?"

She laughed; he made it sound as though she'd discovered a revolutionary scientific achievement, but really it had just been luck. "Found some chickens in that neighborhood over there. I've been keeping them fed and watered and they give me about an egg a day. Yesterday it was two, so I guess they knew I'd be having a guest. Luckily," she paused to crack both eggs in the pan and place it on the hotplate, which she plugged into the single outlet in the wall, "today is a sunny day, so we should have just enough power to cook these."

Kate retrieved a fork from her supply of cutlery and stirred the eggs around in the pan so the yolk was well mixed. When she turned back to Rick, she took note of a peculiar expression on his face. He looked half amazed and half like he might be sick. "Are you okay?"

"Wha—I, oh yeah. I'm fine. Just trying not to be the forty-year-old man crying over an egg…"

She chuckled and stirred the eggs again. "Well, brace yourself because l have a few strawberries left too."

Kate heard the man sigh and pull out a chair at the table. "This is all…incredible, really. How did you find this place?"

She shrugged. "Luck. I was just wandering around and saw the rope ladder hanging down. I'm unbelievably fortunate because it's perfect. The ladder is the only way in and out—other than the balcony, obviously, but no zombie is going to be able to jump up on that. It's so high even a person would struggle."

"How…how do you suppose they got all this furniture in here?"

She chuckled and glanced over her shoulder at him; she had wondered the same thing, but ultimately decided not to question it. "No idea. The mystery of the treehouse, I guess."

Once the eggs had finished cooking, Kate divided them on to two plates and carried them to the table with the remaining strawberries and two bottles of water. Rick thanked her profusely before digging in and proclaiming it had been quite some time since he'd eaten something so delicious. Kate merely chuckled. "So, um, did you sleep okay on that couch?"

He nodded. "For a little while."

She hummed. "You're a little tall for it, I'd imagine," she said, knowing he was well over six feet since he towered several inches above her five-foot-ten frame.

He shook his head. "'s not that. I don't think my body knows how to relax enough to sleep anymore. I've been on alert for too long."

She nodded, having felt the same way when she'd arrived. "That is the one nice thing about this place; complete safety at night."

"The _one_ nice thing? Because, Kate, I can think of at least half a dozen."

She laughed at his comment that was one hundred percent correct. When he smiled at her, her heart fluttered and she realized she couldn't remember the last time she'd had a light and pleasant interaction with another human. It may have been three or four months, sad as that was. That simple fact made her even more confident in her next statement.

"Listen, Rick, I, ah, kind of have a proposal for you."

Having finished his egg, he set down his fork and looked at her. "Oh?"

"Yes. There's some things I've wanted to do around here, but I need help because it's either a two person job or I'd prefer to have someone to watch my back as I did it. So, if you're interested, I'd like you to stay and help awhile. In exchange you can have food, water, and whatever else you need that I can give you."

For almost a full thirty seconds he was silent and then he quickly stammered out, "I-I are you sure? Because Kate that would be…I don't even think I can put it into words. I was dying out there—actually dying. I hadn't eaten in days and I had barely a quarter bottle of water left!"

She gave him a small smile. "So…is that a yes?"

He held on to the edge of the table as though to stop himself from literally leaping into the air. "Yes! Absolutely yes! Anything you need help with just say the word!"

She smiled at him. "Perfect! Let me clean up this stuff and then we'll get started."

* * *

"Okay, I have to ask—how in the world did this mess get here?" Rick asked once he and his companion had descended to ground level and hopped the line of rotting corpses.

"Oh. I did that. Thought it was a good defense. The smell keeps both the zombies and other humans away."

He nodded. "Smart. Gross, but smart."

"Thanks."

Her laughter filled response made Rick's heart flutter. Just about everything he learned about this incredible woman was making it harder and harder for him not to fall at her feet and promise to worship her for eternity; she was extraordinary.

It had taken all of his strength not to breakdown in tears multiple times over the prior half hour. First, at the prospect of a breakfast that did not consist of stale or scavenged food and secondly at the idea that he might not have to spend the next night outside, barely sleeping, just waiting to have his flesh punctured by rotting teeth. Kate's kindness had rendered him nearly speechless. She was giving him, a complete stranger, a reprieve without any prompting. Yes, she needed assistance, which he would gladly give to her, but the fact that she'd offered at all amazed him.

"So, just through these trees is the main house." Kate explained as they made their way through the wilderness. A thick row of evergreens stood in their way and, when she parted the branches, Rick stepped through and observed an expansive house with two wings and a lavish looking outdoor patio living space. Well, this certainly explained the origins high-end adult treehouse; the owners were clearly wealthy.

Before they'd left, Kate had told him the first thing she needed to do that morning was laundry so that her clothes would have time to dry in the heat of the day. When he'd expressed surprise in such a basic domestic task, she had explained that being unclean was not one of the concessions she was willing to make despite the apocalypse. It was bad enough, she said, that she could not clean herself and her clothes as frequently as she would like, but there always came a point when everything was quote, "way too gross." Having only rinsed his undergarments out a few times since leaving Manhattan, Rick could not say he entirely felt the same, but he did see her point.

When they reached the home's patio, Kate paused in front of the entrance to the home and pulled a key from her pocket. Rick couldn't help but laugh and said, "You have a key?"

She smiled at him over her shoulder as she unlocked the door. "Yeah. It was hidden under a really fake-looking rock over there. The house was locked up tight when I found it, so the inside was safe. Plenty of food, a little bit of water. Now I keep it locked so no one wanders though. I mean they could still break a window I guess, but then I'd see it and know."

"Sure." He agreed, following her inside. Immediately he grimaced. It was unpleasantly warm in the house leaving him to assume that unlike the treehouse, the main home did not have solar panels for power. Or, if they did, they did not produce enough electricity to run the air conditioning. A cool blast of air on a blistering summer day was undoubtedly one of the things Rick missed the most in the new world.

He followed Kate on her way back through the kitchen to a hall that led to a laundry room. There, she set down the duffle bag slung over her shoulder and began unloading garments into the large utility sink. "I can wash your clothes for you if you like." She informed him.

"Oh, um…" He hesitated. While that was a nice offer, it would leave him completely naked for the duration of their washing and drying period, which seemed problematic in case they were faced with a hoard of zombies like they had been the afternoon before.

As though she'd read his mind he said, "I'm guessing you don't have spare clothes. Check upstairs—whoever lived here left plenty behind and they might fit you."

"Oh. Great. Thanks." He swiftly pulled off his button down, t-shirt, and pants, leaving him just in boxer shorts. Before handing her the pants, he pulled the knife from the pocket and carried it with him as he ascended the stairs. Honestly, he felt more naked without the knife than without the clothes!

After searching the upstairs for a master suite, Rick discovered that Kate wasn't kidding when she said the owners left plenty of clothes behind. From the packed appearance of the closet, he didn't imagine they took much left them when they left.

The first item of clothing he selected was a clean pair of boxer shorts. Knowing his four month old ones were probably beyond salvaging, he tossed them into a trash can and then turned to the section of hanging pants. Unfortunately, the man who owned the home was several inches shorter than Rick, meaning the pants only fell to just above his ankles, but with a belt the waist fit good enough, so he took a pair of jeans in addition to the khakis he put on knowing having too short pants was better than having no spare pants at all.

After snagging a t-shirt and button down, Rick wandered across the bedroom into the en suite bathroom. There, he caught his first glimpse of himself in a proper mirror in months and he had to admit to being alarmed. As he preferred to be clean shaven most of the time, he'd barely ever acquired more than a few days' stubble in his lifetime and certainly not the level of beard he had presently. In addition to the hair on his head being longer, he could plainly see just how much weight he'd lost due to a lack of consistent food. He was down forty pounds or more from his regular weight, he guessed.

Shaking off that alarming thought, Rick began opening the drawers and cabinets in the bathroom until he found a pair of scissors and a razor. On instinct, he reached out for the faucet tap and turned the handle. When nothing happened, he stared at it for fifteen seconds before saying aloud, "Oops! Duh, idiot; no running water in the apocalypse!" Fortunately, he was able to find a bottle of shaving cream in the shower. It was women's, presumably for shaving legs, but it would work well enough for his purposes. After grabbing a towel he placed his equipment on the counter and set to work transforming himself back into the Richard Castle he was familiar with.

* * *

"Were you able to find—oh!" Kate gasped when a completely different looking man walked into the laundry room. His hair was cut much shorter than it had been half an hour earlier and his beard was completely gone. He was hardly recognizable as the man she'd rescued from a hoard of zombies not twenty-four hours earlier. Yet, at the same time, his face now struck her as even more familiar. She had seen him before, she was sure of it, but how? Where? Perhaps, she thought, as her eyes scanned his face, he had been a witness in one of her cases interviewed by her colleagues, which would explain her recognition of him.

"Yeah, I, ah, found a razor," he said, skimming his hand over his now smooth jawline.

"I can see that. And the clothes fit you?"

"Yeah, um, but they're a little…short."

Kate let out a blip of laughter when she tore her gaze from his face, skimmed it down his body and discovered his protruding ankles. The vision was quite comical, as she didn't know too many forty-year-old men who wore cropped pants.

"Don't laugh at me!"

"Sorry!" she responded, fighting to straighten her smile. "It doesn't look that bad. Maybe one of the other houses on this street will have longer pants."

"Have you been in all of them?"

"Only the five in this cul-de-sac. There's another cul-de-sac down the way, but I never bothered to go that far; these five had more than enough food. Though, now that you're here, we'll probably want to check."

She detected a small amount of pink in his cheeks when he said, "Sorry; I promise I won't eat as much as I did last night."

She tiled her head to the side and gave him a sad expression. How horrible that he was apologizing for eating when he had been quite clearly starved when he arrived. "Rick, it's fine; don't even worry about it. I still have plenty of food—even for two people."

After he'd nodded in acknowledgement, Kate turned back to the sink where she was rinsing out her final two t-shirts. "I'm almost done here. Just need to hang these up and then we'll go check on the chickens."

"I can help hang. Is there a wash line outside?"

"Ah, no; it's in the dining room," she said. Then, when his brow wrinkled, she explained further, "I didn't want the clothes to hang outside just in case someone passed through. It would make it obvious someone was living here-"

"-and they could try and take what you have," he finished for her. "Believe me; I understand." Considering the state he'd been in when he arrived, she imagined he did.

After handing Rick half her pile of wet laundry, she led the way to the dining room explaining that she'd chosen it because of its excess of pictures hanging on the wall. With the pictures removed, the picture hangers were easily used to string lines to hold wash. Rick congratulated her on her ingenuity as they began placing items at opposite ends of the first line.

"Oh, um."

At Rick's awkward throat clearing, Kate looked up to see that he held a pair of green cotton panties pinched between his index finger and thumb. Glancing at her he asked, "Should I…stop helping?"

"Why?" she responded. He looked at the underwear and then up at her pointedly. She chuckled. "It's fine, Rick. We're both adults, right? Besides, if we're going to be living together for a little while, this probably is not going to be the first time you see my underwea—oh." Kate abruptly stopped speaking when she heard the words she was speaking aloud and realized how heavily they implied something of a sexual nature.

Rick tossed the panties over the wash line and looked at her, amused. "You just realized how that sounded, didn't you?"

Now her cheeks were the ones turning pink. "Yep. Shit! I didn't mean-"

"I know you didn't; it's fine."

When their eyes met, the both burst out laughing before turning back to the task at hand.

Shaking her head, Kate folded a t-shirt gently over the line. _Way to make it awkward, idiot,_ she chastised herself. Truth be told, she honestly hadn't thought about sex since the onset of the virus in January. She hadn't been seeing anyone at the time—not that it mattered; almost everyone who could bolted from the city as quickly as possible. As a cop, she needed to remain behind and did so until it became clear organized resistance was futile and it was everyone for themselves. Since then, she'd been too focused on survival and staying away from other humans (both live and undead). Rick was the first man she'd spoken to in months and while she expected to appreciate both his company and assistance, something sexual was not anywhere near the top of her list of priorities at that time.

"Can I make an observation?"

She glanced up at him and found he'd moved on to the second wash line to hang up his pants and shirt. "Hmm?"

"You haven't asked me who I was or what I did before all this."

"Oh. Yeah. I mean, does any of that even matter anymore?" If he was going to be staying with her for a week or so, odds are she would have gotten around to asking him eventually, or the subject would have naturally come up. It wasn't as though they could sit around and watch television or movies in the evening; talking or reading would be their only forms of entertainment. Even still, she didn't see the point. Other than doctors, whose knowledge clearly had continued relevance, what did it matter if he was a lawyer, an accountant, or a stock trader? The apocalypse had fairly easily leveled the playing field; they were all just trying to survive now.

Rick stopped hanging, ducked under the wash line, and approached her. "Who we are always matters; it's part of the story. Take you for instance: single woman, badass as hell, and great shot with a weapon. You could be a hunter or a farm girl, but you also kind of have a city vibe, so I'm guessing former military?"

She let out a breathy laugh. "NYPD. Detective, specifically, but that was a pretty impressive guess."

He nodded to her. "Thank you; it's part of my nature. I was a writer."

Her brow rose. Ah, a writer! Now his familiarity seemed more relevant. Perhaps she'd seen his picture by a byline in the _Post_ or _Ledger_. "What'd you write?"

"Mystery novels."

Well, she'd read her fair share of those, but she was certainly more familiar with last names than first insofar as authors went, so she asked, "Anything I've ever heard of?"

"Maybe. I write under Richard Ca-"

"Castle!" She cut him off with a gasp. Oh! Richard Castle! She laughed and shook her head. That's why he seemed so familiar. Of course! Clearly the beard had thrown her off at first, but his face was also so thin—as was hers, she imagined. Lack of consistent nutrition would do that to a person.

The man's brow rose in shock. "You've heard of me?"

"Of course! I've read your books! Actually, we've even met before—I, ah, I had one of them signed a few years ago." She brushed a strand of hair back behind her ear, feeling slightly embarrassed at that confession.

The writer laughed. "You're kidding!"

She hummed. "Nope. Must be…gosh, five or six years ago now. Time flies, you know…"

"Fascinating…"

Kate chuckled as she turned back to finish her hanging. She wasn't sure fascinating was the right term, but it was certainly interesting. Who knew the world could still be such a small place even after it ended?

"So…detective, huh? What division?"

"Homicide."

"Oh. Wow. So you used to save the citizens of New York and now you save poor tragic wanderers like me."

Kate laughed at his bizarre description. "I think you're romanticizing that a bit too much."

"Hello!" he said, pointing to himself. "Mystery writer! That's my job. Well, it was, anyway. So are we going to go see the chickens now?"

Tossing the last pair of underwear over the wash line, Kate gazed curiously at her companion. He made going to check on the trio of hens sound as though it were a trip to Disney World. "Are you always this excitable?" she asked, cautiously.

"When I have food _and_ something to look forward to that's not wandering around in circles in the miserable heat? Yes."

She nodded. "Just checking." Okay, so if Rick was going to be her companion over the next several days, she couldn't say she was disappointed to see he wouldn't be downtrodden and depressed; that would have been unpleasant to deal with. However, overly chipper was unexpectedly on the opposite end of the spectrum, yet could be equally as annoying. Then again, when faced with the alternative of no human interaction, there could be worst qualities than an upbeat demeanor.

"Hey, uh, you never told me your last name." The writer pointed out as they made their way towards the exit.

"It's Beckett."

He grinned at her. "Detective Kate Beckett; it's nice to officially meet you."


	3. Chapter 3

**THREE**

"I have always found it both fascinating and creepy to go through other people's things." Rick Castle tucked two magazines back into the large wooden display rack hanging on the wall in the home's breakfast nook. He then turned to the petite chest of drawers beneath it and began rummaging.

"Is that so?" his companion asked from where she was unloading the now worthless refrigerator of any bottled or caned drinks that might still be palatable.

"Mmhmm." He hummed in affirmation. "It's awesome."

On his third morning waking up in the tree house, Kate had announced she wanted to try and explore the neighboring cul-de-sac for supplies. As the surrounding area was quite wooded, they decided to take the streets, and it ended up taking them nearly twenty minutes to walk there from the treehouse. On their journey, they'd passed only two zombies, neither of which paid them very much attention, so they had left their brains intact for the time being.

They immediately began checking the doors and windows of the first house they came to and discovered to their fortune that one of the back patio doors was unlocked. This door led into the kitchen and breakfast nook area. With used glasses and bowls still sitting on the table, they could only presume the family of four had left in quite a hurry. Thus, there was hope that supplies remained, or so Kate thought.

While she'd gone directly to the kitchen and set to work, the writer saw no need to rush. Where else did they have to go? What else did they have to do? They, quite literally, had all the time in the world to explore, so why not take it?

"I love observing people." Rick continued as he pulled open the second drawer to find a mismatch of stickie note pads, pens, pencils, and a few markers. "It's part of my nature as a writer. I love to find out what makes people tick, what makes them do the things they do. In that respect, going through people's things is an excellent learning experience. Yet, at the same time, people could be doing the same to my apartment and that's creepy."

"Perhaps you should be doing less rummaging then." The detective suggested wisely.

Rick gazed over at her and shrugged. "Why? Even if I stop, they won't, so I might as well keep going."

"You're one of those people that look in other people's medicine cabinets, aren't you?"

He grinned. "When I feel so inclined, yes." Okay so he didn't look in every bathroom cabinet in strangers homes—generally only when the mood struck him. Or, if he was in the home of someone famous, which was why he was always annoyed that the bathroom he used in James Patterson's house had only had a pedestal sink. No cabinets! How disappointing!

She rolled her eyes at him and he continued, "But here you have to rummage—how else will you find food?"

"I'm going to go on a limb and say there's no food in those drawers."

"Probably not, but—ah!" He proclaimed upon opening the bottom drawer of the petite chest. "Success times two!" He proudly held up his treasures: a sleeve of both AA and AAA sized batteries. "See—these will be helpful."

She raised her hands defensively. "I stand corrected."

Rick placed his batteries on the counter beside the five cans of soda, four water bottles, and six pack of beer she'd extracted from the refrigerator. Resting his hand against the island counter, he observed the space with a wrinkled nose. This kitchen, which could easily be described as being decorated in a country chic type style, was not his taste at all. Firstly, he disliked the color tone of the oak cabinets. Secondly, the woman—at least, he assumed it was the woman—who owned the home had decorated with an excessive amount of barnyard animals. Roosters, cows and pigs seemed to be displayed on almost every surface. To him, it was bizarre.

Wandering past the counter with the stove, Castle found a closed door and pulled it open hoping it was a pantry. Much to his delight, he'd been right and proclaimed aloud, "Sweet! I found the food!"

"Yeah?" his partner called out. "Anything good?"

Rick's eyes glazed over the shelves to find bags of cereal, chips and pretzels sealed with clips. Given the stifling atmosphere of the home, he doubted the clips were doing much to keep the food fresh and imagined the contents might be quite stale. Unfortunately they were not exactly in a position to be terribly picky about food, assuming the food was reasonably edible and would not poison them.

On one of the middle shelves there were unopened boxes of cereal and potato chips, which would be great additions to their stockpile. One snack bag in particular caught Rick's eye and he waggled his eyebrows at it happily. He pulled the bag from the shelf and pulled it open without second thought. After stuffing two morsels into his mouth he said, "I found pork rinds. Want some?"

When Rick emerged from the pantry, he was met by a grimacing Kate. "I seriously hope my survival never comes down to me eating pork rinds or not."

He plunged his hand back in the bag and said, "More for me then." Wandering back to the counter, he pulled one of the beers from the six-pack and popped the cap off using the edge of the counter. Pork rinds and Budweiser—it was almost as though the world hadn't ended. Well, except for the fact that he was eating them while standing in a complete stranger's kitchen. Plus, the beer was unpleasantly warm, but it was better than nothing.

Wandering back to the pantry, Rick began unloading what he could while continuing to drink and eat. He collected the box of Cheerios and Cap'n Crunch (thank god for homes with children!) plus the two chip bags and put them next to the drinks. Back in the pantry, he found more promising yet slightly less fun food items. "Got a few cans of fruit and a bag of rice. Those are much better than pork rinds, don't you think?"

Though he smiled at her, she pressed her lips together and her brow wrinkled, so he asked her what was wrong.

"Nothing, really—the rice is great. Perfect, actually, but just a reminder of how important water is and how we need to work on some really good ways to collect rainwater."

Rick nodded as he set his goods on the counter. In their new, post-apocalyptic existence, water truly was their most precious commodity. Not only did they need it to drink and for some cooking, but water was also needed for washing and cleaning—and not just any water would suffice. It had to be clean, safe water lest they risk making themselves ill. Sadly, not even the best rainwater collection system in the world would help them if there was no rain to collect. By Rick's estimate, it had been at least two weeks since the last precipitation fell from the sky, and even then it hadn't been much.

"Okay, then. When we're done here I'll do a rain dance."

"Not before we get the collections system into place!" She insisted, though she was smiling.

He laughed. "Right sorry."

For the next ten minutes, Rick and Kate worked together to sort the edible contents of the home by levels of usefulness. They separated ready to eat foods from canned goods from items like the rice and pasta that needed cooking before eating. Ultimately they decided to leave behind impractical items like Hamburger Helper and brownie mix. Rick did, however, talk Kate into keeping a bag of granulated sugar because, "you never know when it might come in handy."

Just as they were about to survey the other downstairs rooms for supplies, a crashing sound from the floor above made them both freeze in their tracks. Rick looked over to Kate, who looked back at him wide eyed. For twenty seconds, Rick held his breath and listened, but he could not decide it he heard more sounds from the floor above, or if they were simply coming from the breeze outside. Ultimately, he decided to ask quietly, "Someone upstairs?"

"Or something," came her whispered reply.

Rick estimated they had been in the house for at least half an hour, so he found it odd that a zombie had not responded to the noise they were making in all that time. Perhaps instead it was a human, hiding out in a bedroom or closet. Maybe it was even a child, too scared to reveal himself when the strangers had entered. "We should check it out."

Kate nodded and pulled her gun from the back of her army green Bermuda shorts. Placing both her hands on the gun's grip, she looked up at him. "Well. This seems like a good enough time for a lesson on how police clear rooms."

Despite the nerve-wracking potential unknown on the second floor, this prospect excited the writer. As he had almost exclusively traveled with group of people, he had not had much experience with securing spaces—er, "clearing" them. He'd huddled in garages and abandoned cars, both of which could be deemed safe or unsaved by a quick visual sweep. The two-story home, however, was a different beast entirely.

"Awesome; thanks!"

She gave him a half annoyed look. "Rick, we don't know what we could find up there. I need you to be serious."

He set his jaw and nodded in his best military-style impression. "I am serious. _Deadly_ serious." When she tilted her head to the side and shot him a perturbed look, he almost laughed, but then figured that would earn him more scolding so he said quickly, "Sorry; kidding. I'm actually serious—I promise."

Holding her gun down by her side, Kate began to creep towards the stairs in the front of the home, quietly instructing Rick to follow closely behind her, but also to make sure he was looking behind him, just in case whatever it was ambushed them from the rear.

At the top of the steps, Kate paused and gazed left and right down the hallway. From his vantage point it was difficult to get a full picture, but Rick did not see anything particularly unique about the hall; it seemed quite typical: long and narrow with bedrooms and bathrooms branching off. Instead of progressing forward, Kate stomped her foot hard on the top wooden step, which caused a noise reverberation to echo around them. Rick initially wondered why she had done that, but then he heard the growling to their left and realized she'd been trying to get the undead to reveal his or her position.

Creeping with her back pressed up against the wall, Kate took the ten steps towards the closed door emanating inhuman sounds. She held up an index finger indicating that he wait as she quickly swept the two other doors in that section of the house. One was open revealing a bathroom that Rick could tell from his position was clear of anything dangerous. The other, evidently a bedroom, was also clear.

"Get your knife out." Kate instructed him just loud enough for him to hear. He nodded and did as she asked. His heart slammed into his rib cage as he held the knife tightly in his right hand. Kate counted down quietly from three and when she was finished she kicked open the bedroom door, causing it to splinter on its hinges. Rick braced himself for a zombie to rush out, but none did. He waited for ten seconds, but nothing happened. Yet, moaning could still be heard.

Kate stepped into the doorway and nudged the door open a bit further with her foot. The further the door opened, they were both assailed with the unpleasant stench of urine, feces and rot. As the room was revealed inch by inch, it became obvious why. A shriveled, elderly woman was lying on the floor, reaching out her gnarled fingers and growling at them. It was clear she could not walk, but had fallen out of bed and was attempting to claw her way towards the door.

As Kate pulled out her knife to end the poor undead woman's misery, Rick's stomach flipped in his gut as he realized the story behind the scene. The family of four had left with haste but without their (presumed) grandmother. But why? In what possible scenario could that make sense?

After finishing the task at hand, the detective stood, returned her gun to the back of her shorts and the knife to its sheath on her belt. She turned to face the writer and her feelings on the event were plain; she appeared as nauseated as he did. Clearing her throat, she stepped out of the room and shut the door behind her. "We should check the other bedrooms."

"More zombies?" he asked tentatively.

She shrugged. "Maybe, but I doubt it. You never know if we'll find anything useful. First aid supplies are always welcome."

He agreed with a nod before turning and walking towards the opposite end of the hall, where he found the master bedroom. His hand rested on the handle of his knife as he stepped into the room, but after checking both the walk in closet and en suite bathroom, he found the room vacant. Hopeful that the homeowner might have pants that fit him better than the ones he'd previously found, he returned to the closet and flicked on the light switch. When, after a second nothing happened, he laughed to himself. That instinct was a hard one to get over.

Returning to the bed, he opened the nightstand drawer and found the flashlight he hoped would be stashed there. Twisting the head so it turned on, Rick returned to the closet and searched for men's pants. Sadly, the ones he found were several inches shorter than what he would need, but his trip into the closet hadn't been as disappointing as he'd originally thought. On the back of the closet door, he caught sight of objects hanging that made him call out. "Whoa-ho! Now things are getting interesting again! Kate!"

"What? What did you find?"

He could tell her voice was getting closer as she made her way to the back bedroom, so he called out in response, "Kinky sex toys."

"What!?"

He laughed at her scandalized sounding voice. When she joined him, Rick shined the light on the black leather collection while gazing at her face for her reaction. As it wasn't as interesting as he hoped, he baited her with, "Those are definitely not belts."

"No…no they are not. There are definitely a couple kids' bedrooms out there, too. Hope they knew not to come and look in mommy and daddy's closet." When she looked over at him, they both burst out laughing.

"Jeez, yeah." Rick continued. "You gotta keep this stuff in a less conspicuous place like one of those under the bed storage containers, but not the clear ones! You've got to make sure they're opaque."

When Kate folded her arms over her chest and gazed at him curiously, Rick felt his cheeks flush. The bedroom was already a hundred degrees, but suddenly it felt like a thousand when he realized how his statement sounded. "I mean _people_ should do that. People. Not me. I mean, not that I have this many—I mean, not that I have _any_ —not like this—these. They're um, a lot more…I…" He finally stopped talking as he realized his ramblings were only getting himself into more trouble.

Clearly fighting a laugh, she asked, "Are you done now?"

"Yep." Oh he was very, very done.

"Well, uh, thanks for the entertainment. Would you mind checking the bathrooms up here for supplies? I'm going to go back down and see if I can find a box or something to carry our stuff in."

Rick cleared his throat and nodded in acceptance. "Sounds good."

It was only after she'd left that he fully relaxed his body. _Way to make a fool out of yourself with the only woman you've spoken to in a month, Castle_ , he chastised himself. Then again, he thought with a sigh as he walked back to the en suite, what did it matter? His engagement with Kate was meant to be short lived and while it would certainly be enjoyable while it lasted, in a world like that one, once they parted they would surely never see each other again.

* * *

When Kate arrived back in the kitchen, she was still chuckling over Rick's bedroom find. That was precisely the reason that, unlike her companion, she did not find enjoyment in rummaging through other people's belongings; it made her feel endlessly uncomfortable. As she had spent the majority of her adult life training to be and the practicing as a law enforcement officer, the mere fact that she was breaking a half dozen laws with her actions certainly rubbed her the wrong way. True, given the circumstances there was probably not an active government in existence that would charge her, however, she still did not want to take the situation too lightly.

The legalities of their actions aside, Kate still hated the idea of being in someone else's home. She continually felt as though they would return and be irate at her presence. Of course she knew the odds of that taking place were astronomically low, but that didn't mean she had to loiter any longer than necessary or snoop through their belongings. Yes, Rick's discovery had been amusing, but she also would have been perfectly fine not knowing anything about the between-the-sheets activities of the homeowners.

After searching the laundry area for anything useful, Kate procured a plastic ten gallon bin housing spare hats, gloves and scarves. After dumping the contents into a pile on the floor by the washer, Kate began loading the bin with the food they'd discover. Reviewing it again as she packed, she was quite pleased with their discoveries. Evidently, once the area had emptied out, no one else had wandered through and picked at the supplies; that definitely boded well for what remained in the other four houses in that cul-de-sac. If they yielded a similar amount of edible items, she and Rick would be set for quite some time, and that was a very comforting notion.

"Got some bandages, antihistamines, and painkillers—the good prescription kind…though, actually, the prescription was written almost three years ago so we should probably just throw those out." Rick walked into the kitchen with an arm full of bottles. He skimmed through them, plucked one out and tossed it on the counter by the toaster, and then dumped the rest of his load into the storage bin.

"Oh," he paused to pull something out of his back pants pocket, "and I found weed."

"Rick!" Kate half laughed, half scolded the man.

He smirked. "What? You gonna arrest me for being in possession of an illegal substance, Officer?"

She snatched the plastic baggie from his hand and examined it. "It's _detective_ and what good would that do me? I have no place to detain you." Flipping the baggie over in her hand she doubted there was much more than enough for one joint—not that she was particularly interested. She had been handed one the first weekend of her first semester at Stanford and had felt compelled to partake, but had never seen the appeal of continued use. "Where'd you find this?"

"Apparently mom and dad were into more than just tying each other up."

She chuckled and handed the baggie back to him. "Well, you can keep that if you want; I'm good."

"Really? That hell bent on following the law?"

She shook her head. "Definitely not that; I just have no desire to find out how being high impairs my zombie fighting skills."

He rolled his eyes. "Well obviously we wouldn't smoke it until we were safe in the treehouse."

"Whatever. Let's just get this stuff back, okay?" Kate didn't see the need to waste any more time arguing over marijuana when a hoard could pass by at any time. They were, unfortunately, more vulnerable when lugging a load of supplies—especially supplies they wished to keep safe and free from spilled zombie blood.

Rick nodded, moved to pick up the storage container and grunted. "Damn that's heavy. Maybe they have a wagon or something in the garage we can use."

Kate nodded; that wasn't a half bad idea and she hadn't thought to check the garage. She followed Rick down the hall and out through the garage, which was miraculously less stifling than the house. This, she presumed, was due to the lack of windows, which unfortunately did not help them see any better. Fortunately, Rick had retained the flashlight from the bedroom and shined it around until they found a wheelbarrow. "Better than nothing."

Kate remained in the garage with the flashlight while Rick returned to the house to get their supplies. In shining it around, she saw the family actually had a second refrigerator there. It was old and had a rusted handle, but seeing as it was still plugged in, she assumed they had used it. Opening it she nearly gasped with delight; it was certainly their best find of the day.

"Rick look," she said when he returned lugging the storage container.

"What?"

"The spare fridge—it has almost a case and a half of water."

"Sweet!" he proclaimed. "Load it up."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Kate and Rick awkwardly navigated their way back down the streets with a fully loaded wheelbarrow. Kate ended up having to carry the smaller case of water due to the space limitations of the wheeled transport. Though it was certainly better than nothing as without it they probably would have needed to make two trips, the weight was making pushing the cart quite awkward. Rick had nearly lost the load twice due to its top heaviness.

"We're, uh," he grunted when the wheel of the cart bumped along an uneven portion of the sidewalk, "going to stop and see the girls on the way back, right? I think Hannah is really starting to warm up to me."

Kate rolled her eyes as she adjusted the grip on the water bottles. "The girls" as he called them were the trio of chickens she was keeping. She had taken Rick to see them the very first day they spent together, and had been shocked at how taken he had been with them. He spoke to each of them as though they were a small child and not white feathered fowl.

"I cannot believe you named the chickens." She commented. She had not bothered to ask where the names Hannah, Clara, and Shelby came from, nor had she asked how he was able to tell the nearly identical birds apart enough to correctly name them; the entire situation seemed ridiculous to her.

Rick glanced over his shoulder at her. "I can't believe you didn't name the chickens."

"They're chickens," she said in a tone that made it seem as though her reasoning should be obvious.

"So? You named Tux."

"He's a cat; it's different." It was what you did; you named cats and dogs. Sure, she'd heard of people having pet parakeets and naming them, but chickens? It was as though you could teach the chicken its name and have it respond. At least Tux could do that. Plus, she knew he understood simple concepts like "food", "no," and "stop yelling, I'm trying to sleep."

The writer clicked his tongue with annoyance. "Ah, I see how it is now—you're a birdist."

Kate almost stopped walking as she proclaimed, "A what!?"

"A birdist. Lake racist, but for birds."

"Wha-" Kate began a rebuttal, but then realized there was no point in arguing. She had never heard anything so ridiculous. She had absolutely nothing against the chickens. In fact, she very much appreciated their eggs. In that respect, she was not racist against the birds. Yet, she did not feel the name to chase them around the yard and attempt to pick them up like he had. "You're insane."

"Says the birdist." He retorted. "You know I bet if you would talk to them and pet them they'd give you more eggs."

Kate opened her mouth to respond, but then thought better of it; there really was no point.

When they arrived at the home with the chickens, they left their wheelbarrow of goods in the driveway, as it would be too difficult to take it across the uneven grass. She retrieved the chicken feed from the home's garage and passed it over to Rick, who was all too eager to visit his three new friends. "You go talk to the birds; I'm going to make sure the wind last night didn't damage their fence."

With a mocking expression he took the feed and said, "I'll tell them you said hello," before walking off towards the area fenced around their coup.

As she watched him go, calling out the names of the hens as he went, Kate snagged her bottom lip between her teeth and shook her head. Rick may have been insane, but he did make her laugh and smile more than she had since leaving Manhattan, which, given their situation, was no small feat. When Kate first invited the writer to say, she had been a bit concerned about how well they would mesh together, but so far their interactions were exceeding her expectations. True, it had only been a few days, but as it stood then she did not see a need to hurry him out the door.

The way Kate saw it, the time for making long term plans had long since passed. They were living day to day—hour by hour, really. They had enough food and water for the time being, but who knew when the next big herd of zombies would pass through. Worse yet, a heard of angry, unhappy, weapon-wielding people could show up at any minute. On top of all that was their largest and most unpredictable enemy: the weather.

Given the varied adversaries, Kate had no idea if she would make it one more year, one more month, or even one more week. That was, unfortunately, the new reality she needed to accept. In that respect, when it came to Rick, a companion whom she did not mind in the least—if anything, she appreciated his presence—as far as she was concerned he could stay with her for the foreseeable future.


	4. Chapter 4

**FOUR**

"This is all actually quite impressive." Rick commented as he surveyed the two fires and field of water-filled pots before him.

From her position crouched beside on fire, stoking it with a long stick, Kate glanced up at him. "It's not…"

He smiled at her. "I completely disagree."

It was impressive. _She_ was impressive. And he'd never been more thankful that she'd rescued him two weeks prior.

By the end of their first week together Rick believed they had found a rhythm. In the mornings they would get up and take turns making breakfast. After doing a perimeter sweep to make sure nothing human or non-human had invaded their clearing overnight, they would typically start on that day's main task, whether it was scavenging for their food or the water collection project they'd been working on in the prior few days. When the mid-day heat set in, they would take a break, eat lunch, and read for a few hours in the shade to avoid the oppressive sun. Every now and then a zombie would wander through, but they were largely alone. The late afternoon and early evening hours were saved for more food collection, checking on the chickens, and securing their fortress for nightfall.

Months earlier, when musing about what might happen if the world really did fall into an apocalyptic state, Rick had once feared he would be bored living in a world without ample electronic devices for entertainment. At the time, he failed to take into consideration that such a world also came without grocery stores, food delivery, or any other modern convenience, so previously simple tasks like acquiring food and preparing a meal took significantly longer.

The prior few days almost all of their time had been consumed with what Kate was referring to as The Water Project. Having fresh water to drink was imperative to their survival. While the two and a half cases they'd stockpiled seemed like a lot, it actually was not. Given the summer heat, they were both drinking multiple bottles a day, which meant they had barely two weeks' supply remaining. Seeing as they had three more houses to go through, finding more water was not unlikely, but eventually they would run out of water—and other things to drink—within walking distance of the treehouse. Thus, Kate's plan was born.

By far, their best bet for potable water was collecting rain water. Granted, in the summer it didn't rain that much, but without a weather forecast they also did not know when it would be raining, thus their water collection design needed to be semi-permanent. Kate explained that her method of lining the balcony with Tupperware and other containers when it rained was functional, but certainly not the most efficient. In order to collect more rain water they needed to collect from a large surface area.

During their exploration of one of the houses in the cul-de-sac further from the treehouse, they discovered that the homeowners had been in the middle of painting their upstairs hallway and adjoining bedrooms. Among paint, brushes, and trays that were not useful to them, they found several unopened packages of plastic drop cloths. Evidently, these would become integral in Kate's design.

Rick had to admit that as soon as she sketched out her idea on a pad of paper they found he immediately saw the crazy brilliance of the set up. By using patio furniture, a porch roof, and no small amount of rope, she designed a large area from which to collect water and then funnel it into a storage container or bucket for easy transportation. When putting the plan into action, they had run into a few snags, such as durability during a storm with high winds, but in the end their three days of work had yielded an ingenious device.

As Kate put it, the only downside (other than potential wind damage, as they had no way of doing intense testing on its sturdiness) was that it made it very clear that a human had designed the contraption for some use and that human was most likely nearby. If anyone happened to pass by the house, they might be inclined to seek out said human. While Rick saw her point, he countered that those passersby would assume the human was staying at the house the collection system was set up at, and when they realized that house was vacant they'd probably move on and not discover the treehouse at all.

Much to their luck—though Rick was claiming the rain dance he performed upon the completion of their collection system was the cause—it had rained for an hour the night before. The tarp work beautifully and when combined with the two dozen other pots, pans, and containers sitting around various locations, they had managed to collect several gallons of water, which meant that day was dedicated to collecting, organizing, and storing.

"I'm not sure I would have even thought about boiling all this rainwater." Rick commented as Kate moved to the second fire to make sure the water had not yet begun to boil. She shoved a few more sticks onto the flames and sat back on her haunches.

"Well, I suppose we could drink it as it is, but I'd rather not risk it especially since boiling it isn't that big of a deal. Don't know about you, but I'm not in the mood to get violently ill right now."

He almost laughed. "Is anyone ever in the mood to get violently ill?"

She nodded. "Fair enough."

Wandering over to the other fire, he gazed in the pot and noted, "This one's boiling."

"Thanks."

"So, um, I have to ask: you seem to know a lot about this stuff. Did you go camping a lot as a kid?" He'd been curious ever since she detailed the elaborate plans. Sure, he spent a great deal of time thinking about the apocalypse, but his focus had mainly been on weaponry and defense, which made it ironic that he'd been robbed of almost all his weapons within the first few days of leaving the city. Kate did not exactly seem the type to sit around and fantasize about a future world that, up until six months earlier, no one would have ever thought would come to fruition. Thus, being outdoorsy was Rick's next best guess to explain her knowledge.

She chuckled. "Camping? No. Never was much of a sleep-under-the-stars type girl. My family does have a cabin in northern Pennsylvania though it's far from rustic—no different than a regular house other than it being secluded. My dad always talked about what could happen if I got lost in the woods and how I could drink from flowing water, not stagnant, but boiling water was always the best way to limit the possibility of getting sick. He always said it didn't matter how murky the water looked, boiling the water would make it okay to drink...but I think I'll stick to the rainwater we collected for as long as possible."

"Really." He commented, agreeing wholeheartedly. "On the bright side, with no electricity and limited cars traveling for the past few months, the air is probably much less smoggy so the rain probably isn't that bad."

"True." She agreed before removing the boiling pot from the fire and placing it onto a patch of bare earth to let it cool. Then, she picked up one of their waiting pots and repeated the process. According to her, boiling smaller pots would make the task go quicker instead of waiting for a large soup pot worth of liquid to rise to two hundred and twelve degrees. Besides, with all the houses they were surrounded by, it wasn't as though they were short on pots; they had found at least twenty. After that, they stopped looking, but there were sure to be more if more became a requirement.

Watching her tend to the other pot, Rick could not help but wonder more about her backstory; he knew so little about her. She was thirty, a homicide detective from Manhattan, and read his books. Other than the little tidbit she'd just revealed about her family's cabin that was about all he knew about her, but he wanted to know so much more. She had said to him on their very first day that who they were before all this didn't matter. He completely disagreed, but with that kind of comment he guessed she would not be keen on revealing too much about her past. Still, suppressing his curiosity for too much longer would be too difficult, so Rick decided to stick to a subject she might be more willing to speak about.

"So, um, is that how you got here?"

"Hmm?"

"Is that how you found this place? Were you on your way to your family's cabin?"

"Oh. Yes and no," she said without looking at him.

When she said no more and their silence extended past thirty seconds, Rick decided she was not interested in explaining any further so he rounded his shoulders and took a step back. "Sorry, I didn't mean to pry…"

"It's not that." She pushed herself up from the ground and stood facing him, her arms tucked around her waist. "I'm just not sure there's all that much to tell. As a cop I was required to stay behind, even as more people became sick, the streets became unsafe, Marshall Law was put into place… There were no homicides to investigate—I mean, _everything_ was a homicide, but us finding who killed whom wasn't stopping the attacks or the violence, so we were all reassigned to crowd control. Hadn't put on riot gear since my days at the academy, but there I was, guarding a hospital," she said with a mirthless laugh.

"By March—well, you were in the city; you saw how it was I'm sure." She looked over at him and he nodded; he saw many things he wished to never see again. "The time for organized law enforcement had long since passed. Our precinct captain told those of us who remained alive to get out and save ourselves. There were five of us in total. We loaded up weapons, ammo, and the other supplies we could carry and started walking. Only two of us made it past Jersey City."

Rick cringed at her statement. That percentage was less than the group he left with and he imagined her group was significantly better armed and trained.

"Esposito and I stayed together for a few weeks, but then we ran into a hoard and were separated. I tried to find him again but never did." She paused to kneel down to take the second pot of boiling water off the fire. "We could have been walking circles around each other for days for all I knew. Eventually, though, I realized I wasn't going to find him and I needed supplies, so I set off on my own, thinking maybe my parent's cabin would be a good place to hide out."

"Were you going to try and meet up with them?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Neither was living by the time I left the city."

With his mother's death so fresh in his mind, Rick winced at her response. "I'm sorry."

"'s okay. Anyway, that's about it. Didn't take me too much longer to find this place and with the well-stocked neighborhood and the chickens it seemed as good a place as any to hide out. Being out there on the road alone certainly wasn't safe."

He almost chuckled. "Trust me; I know."

She offered a small smile. "Right. Of course." With a sigh, she turned and gazed up at the treehouse for several moments before looking back at him. "It's not a bad place to live, is it?"

"Not at all," he added hastily. In fact, all things considered, it was rather prefect. Yes, they could have stayed in any one of a dozen expansive homes. Had he not had first-hand experience, he probably would have argued that one of those homes would have been better, but that simply wasn't true.

For starters, homes that size would have been difficult to secure overnight. If he and Kate slept up in a bedroom, who was to say someone wasn't breaking in on the first floor? They wouldn't hear it and could end up dead without ever waking up. With the trap door secured on the treehouse, it was virtually impossible for anyone to break in, thus giving them peace of mind.

Additionally, the treehouse afforded them the opportunity of shade and a healthy breeze. Yes, it was still oppressively hot during the daytime, but at night, if they left the balcony door open, the interior of the main rooms became an almost reasonable temperature. In fact, one night it had almost become too chilly and Rick had shut the door sometime in the early hours. Including the fact that it had the solar panels and a semi-functional bathroom, it really was ideal.

Thinking about the treehouse caused Rick's mind to jump back two days earlier when he'd finally resigned himself to ask Kate what her intentions were insofar as letting him stay on the couch. Right from the start, her invitation to him had been that he would stay on and aid her in completing projects in exchange for room and board. Given her wording, Rick could only assume that her invitation thusly had an undetermined end date. The way he saw it, though, the water collection system had to be one of her main goals and as it was nearing completion he could not help but wonder if his time with her would be as well.

If he was honest with himself he would be forced to admit that the prospect of leaving the treehouse made him very sad. Of course he appreciated it from the standpoint that it was a safe, worry-free place to rest his head every night and the consistent food and water certainly didn't hurt, but it was more than that. Rick liked being in the treehouse because he liked being with Kate.

Ever since the death of his mother and daughter Rick was simply going through the motions of life. Surviving, yes, but not living. Though he'd never thought it was possible for him, he'd actually felt the will to continue on slipping away. Had she not found him that day, he was certain he would not be alive presently, but that was not the reason he wanted to stay with her.

The simple fact was: he liked Kate. She was beautiful, kind, and fascinating, but it was more than that. Though they didn't talk much about themselves or their past, they did talk about things. They'd chatted plenty about the books they liked to read and he spoke about the stories he was interested in telling through his writing. When going through one of the houses he'd found one of his favorite Stephen King novels and upon discovering she had not read it, he insisted she do so, and they had a nice discussion about it as she progressed. Talking to Kate was unexpectedly easy; it felt natural and in their new bizarre reality, that was not something he wanted to take lightly.

Rick did not want to leave Kate or the treehouse, but he also did not want to be unwelcome or come off as rude or pushy. He wanted to be prepared for the time that she no longer needed his assistance, so as much as he didn't want to, he had forced himself to bring the topic up over dinner. Much to his surprise, his inquiry had flustered Kate; she appeared nervous and stammered out that she just assumed that he would remain in the treehouse with her seeing as he had nowhere else to go.

His response has been to tell her that the treehouse was hers seeing as she found it and inhabited it first and he would never presume to move in permanently without her expressly asking him to. To this, she said simply, "Then this is me asking you to stay."

When he thanked her, she laughed and called him silly for thinking she was going to throw him out after all he'd done to help her. Then, she'd retrieved two bottles of beer they'd stashed in the refrigerator, cracked them both open and handed him one so they could toast to their agreement.

As they laughed and drank, Rick felt a peculiar fluttering sensation in his heart; one he thought he might never feel again. He was falling for her—and not just because of the hilariously limited dating field of post-apocalyptic society. He would have fallen for her if they'd met back in the city, back before any of this started. He would have fallen for her anywhere, any place, because she was amazing.

Given how recent that revelation had been, Rick had not yet fully processed what it meant, so for the time being he was taking the only course of action he could: ignoring it. Still, no matter how their story ended, one fact would never change.

"I'm really glad I met you, Kate."

She glanced up at him from her position putting out one of the fires. "Yeah? Because without me you would have been a zombie dinner?"

"No," he said, though her statement was completely valid. "That's not what I meant. I'm just…I'm glad I met you. I would have been glad I met you back in New York before all of this started."

Her brow rose for a moment, but then her face relaxed into a smile. "I'm glad I met you, too. Now, are you ready to start moving some of these cooled pots up into the treehouse?"

* * *

"Okay. That's it. Careful; just take it nice and slow."

Rick stopped pulling on the rope and gazed down at her pointedly. "I don't think there's any way for me to do this much faster."

Kate gave a conceding head bob and watched the basket of water on its ascent. This was by far the part she was the most nervous about. As she had many experiences of dropping the container when she did this herself, she hoped Rick would have more success. It wasn't so much the fact that they would have wasted the prior few hours, but the fact that they had no water with which to start the process over.

Though Rick's continued praises embarrassed her slightly, she had to admit to being impressed at just how well the water catching system had worked. Given how short the prior night's storm had been, she had not expected much of a yield, but the amount of water they obtained delighted her. It meant more than just being able to wash some dishes instead of using every pre-cleaned plate and utensil the neighboring houses had to offer, but an even more precious commodity: taking a bath and being clean. For a day, anyway.

Kate's eyes continued to follow the basket on its ascent. Right when it reached the bottom edge of the balcony, her breath caught in her chest; this was by far the trickiest part. At first, it seemed to be going smoothly as the basket's ascent continued, but then the top edge snagged on one of the sticks camouflaging the balcony from the ground and the basket began to tilt. "Rick! Watch ou-"

But her warning was stolen from her lips as the pots inside the basket shifted with a metal clink and water began seeping towards the ground.

"Shit! Shit! Sorry! Oh shit I'm sorry!" Rick groaned as he quickly lowered the basket to the ground. He rested his forearms on the balcony edge and cursed again.

"It's okay." Kate said, walking over to examine the basket. A good portion of the water had spilled, but not all of it, so it wasn't a total loss. Plus she couldn't blame him in the least as she had done the exact same thing several times before.

"I'm sorry Kate."

"Really—its fine. Why don't you try standing with your legs against the railing and holding your arms straight out as you pull so the basket is actually a bit further away from the treehouse?" In her experience, this was the best way to keep the basket from getting caught. Unfortunately, it was also a much more difficult way to pull the basket up, because it depended entirely on muscle strength to hoist the weight; there was no way to distribute it against the railing of the balcony.

Doing as she instructed, Rick was able to pull the basket up safely, though he did mention it was more difficult, as she'd anticipated. When he pulled the basket up and over the railing, she heard him curse again and asked what happened.

"I spilled a little more water," he confessed apologetically. "I'm sorry; I'm really trying not to be terrible at this."

A breathy chuckle escaped her lips. "You're not terrible; don't worry about it."

Even if he had spilled the whole pot of water, she still would not have been mad at him; his assistance had been too instrumental in the prior two weeks. Without him, she knew she would never have been able to complete the water collection system. Even with the two of them they sometimes struggled. Without a second pair of hands, it would have been impossible, not to mention his height was an advantage on more than one occasion.

Though she had not thought about it specifically until he'd mentioned it, Kate was glad she had met Rick—more than glad, actually. As she had spent well over two months completely isolated from other (living) humans, she had forgotten how nice it was to have someone to talk with, who could talk back, unlike her black and white feline who would only yowl or purr in response to her comments. She had not realized how important human interaction was until she no longer had it. With Rick around, the days seemed to pass a little quicker and doing the difficult tasks seemed a little easier.

With the final pan of water hoisted up into the treehouse, Rick returned to the ground level and approached the second, still burning fire. Suspecting he was about to stamp it out she stopped him with, "No wait; I'm going to make dinner before we put it out; we'll have to eat a little early tonight."

"Fine by me—lugging that water was hard work!"

After retrieving supplies from the kitchen, Kate set to work making that evening's meal: Rice-a-Roni's Spanish Rice with a side of mashed potatoes from a box. With no possible way to add milk, butter or any other dairy product, the meals could be disappointing; however, thanks to an ample spice rack in one of the homes, they still tasted decent enough. Sadly, the end of civilized society had meant concessions insofar as food texture and flavor, but any food was better than starving to death.

* * *

"Oh god…I don't think I can eat another bite." Rick groaned and rubbed his stomach while peering into the pot of Rice-a-Roni where half a serving remained.

Kate laughed. "Things not often heard during the apocalypse…"

"Right?!" he proclaimed, laughing as well. "I hate to waste it…you think you can finish it?"

"I finished the potatoes!"

"Right… you know, this whole lack of refrigeration thing is getting quite frustrating."

She hummed and took a sip of water. On a cloudy day like that one, their tiny refrigerator failed to keep its interior below fifty degrees. While that was quite impressive compared to the eighty-five-plus atmosphere, it was certainly too warm to safely store food for any duration of time. She understood his point, though. When the prospect of them running out of food completely was not out of the realm of possibility, any wasting of perfectly good food was anxiety-inducing.

After dumping out the unused food under a tree far away from their camp so as not to draw in animals or any other creatures with a sense of smell, Kate helped Rick carry their used dishes and utensils back into the treehouse and set them in the sink to wash. "Man I can't wait until winter." He commented as he hoisted up the rope ladder.

Kate stopped in her tracks and gazed at him as though he'd grown a second head. "Um, why?"

"Because even if there's no sun we can make our own refrigerator with ice and snow and stuff; no more waste."

Kate shook her head at him. While this logic was correct, his vision was too narrow. "Um, yeah, except it'll be freezing and we might not have appropriate clothing and shelter to keep us from getting frostbite."

He clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed. "Well I was trying not to think about _that_. Anyway, I'm going to get started on the dishes…"

"Perfect. I'm going to take a bath—you probably should too."

He laughed as he crossed the room. "Is that your way of telling me that I smell, Kate?"

She answered honestly. "We both do." In the summer heat, without daily showers—proper showers, not just using a damp washcloth to wipe down certain areas—body odor was a given and there was only so much deodorant could do. Modern deodorants simply had not been designed for apocalyptic style living in July heat. More than just the smell, however, was the dirt from continually existing in nature. It had been a tough transition for Kate to get used to, and she was sad to say she finally had, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to bathe as regularly as she could. A lack of hygiene could only lead to any number of conditions she did not wish to experience.

As Kate gathered a pot of water and a cloth to take with her into the bedroom, she noticed Rick gazing at her curiously so she asked him what was wrong. He responded with, "I honestly do not mean to sound like a creepy voyeur when I ask this but: how are you going to use that pot to bathe?"

"Well I'm not going to be able to sit in it, if that's what you're asking." She teased. He gave her an unappreciative look and she laughed. "If you don't know how I'm going to do this, dare I ask how you've been bathing?"

"I haven't."

"Yuck." She responded with her nose scrunched in disgust.

"I'm kidding—kind of. My mother said the apocalypse was no excuse for not looking fabulous and somewhere along the way she found one of those giant tubs of baby wipes and insisted on lugging it along with her. And, by that, I mean she made me carry it." They exchanged smiles before he continued. "Anyway, we used those to kind of bathe for a while, but they ran out and it's probably been a month since I had anything resembling a makeshift bath."

"Then you're definitely next."

Rick glanced at the pot she held, back at her, back at the pot, and then down at himself with a frown. "If you thought I spilled water just trying to haul those over the balcony railing I got news for you…"

She laughed. "Well, I can't exactly blame you there. I do have to wash my hair on the balcony because water just gets everywhere."

"Why don't you use the tub in the house?"

She nodded her head. That would be a hundred times easier and a more controlled mess. Unfortunately, she did not feel it was a viable option. "I did a few times, but I wasn't sure where the water was going when it drained and I was afraid of it backing up."

"Gotcha."

* * *

Though she wished to enjoy the luxurious feeling of soaping up her skin and rinsing it clean for hours, Kate bathed as efficiently as she could before stepping out onto the balcony in just her underwear. Normally, she washed her hair fully nude so as not to dampen her undergarments, but with Rick in the next room that felt inappropriate.

With her hair washed and wrapped in a towel and the now dirty water poured over the balcony edge, Kate relinquished the bedroom to her companion so he could take his turn. While he bathed, she busied herself putting away the now-dry dishes and distracting Tux, who was suddenly hell bent on getting through the closed bedroom door even if it meant scaling the wall.

"Okay—I stand corrected." Rick called out through the bedroom door. "This actually feels amazing."

She chuckled and shoved the yelling feline away from the door. "Ah, yes, the benefits of de-gross-ify-ing."

"Oooh now there's a great word!"

She laughed and continued to clean up the kitchen for several more minutes before she heard, "I think I'm going to need your help."

Kate immediately felt her face flush at the prospect of what he could mean by that considering his current state. "What? Why?"

"I can't figure out the hair thing."

She rolled her eyes. "Honestly it's not…that…" But her voice drifted off when Rick emerged from the bedroom wearing nothing but white boxer-briefs, his chest and arms glistening with the remnants of water. Kate swallowed hard as she observed his strong arms, broad chest and, oh, the fact that the water running down into his bottoms had made them nearly see-through. Clearing her throat, Kate raised her line of vision to his face and laughed at how peculiar he looked with his hair clumped at odd angles and coated in suds.

"What?" He responded as though his appearance were entirely normal.

"Nothing," she said a bit too quickly, fighting to keep her gaze trained on his face. Though she really, really wanted to, she would not allow herself to look any further south. "You just look funny with your hair half soapy, that's all."

He smiled cheekily at her. "Then maybe you can help me get the soap out."

Kate led the way out onto the balcony and took the pot of water Rick handed her. Unfortunately, he was far too tall for her to effectively rinse his hair while he stood, so he dragged one of the kitchen table chairs out for him to sit on. She forced him to hold the pot of water on his lap, which was both practical and prevented her from staring, while she used her hands to cup the water and transfer it to his scalp.

A minute in to the process, Rick groaned. "Okay that feels amazing. Can you do my back next?"

She stopped with her hands fully entangled in his hair. "Excuse me?"

"My back—its killing me from hoisting up all that water."

Her brow wrinkled as she tried to grasp what he was saying. "So you're asking me for a massage?"

"Sure—this is a spa isn't it? Hey! Kate!" He spluttered and whined when her handful of water landed on his nose not in his hair."

"That's what you get for calling me a spa service."

Using the remaining water in the pot, she finished rinsing his hair and he thanked her for her assistance.

"No problem," she said, turning away quickly as he stood from his seat. "I'm just going to, ah, finish up in the kitchen."

"Can I do anything?"

Without even looking over her shoulder she said, "Yeah. Put some pants on."

* * *

"Oh god. Yep. My back is officially killing me." Rick groaned as he stood from his kitchen chair after it had become too dark to read by the ambient light coming through the balcony door. He arched his spine and moaned as he rolled his shoulders forwards and backwards. "I think I hurt muscles I didn't know I had."

Kate let out a breathy laugh, a teasing comment poised on her lips, but then she thought better of it. Watching him roll his neck to the left and the right, she began to feel a little guilty about their situation. He had done so much to help her that day, just saying thank you didn't seem like enough. "You should take the bed tonight."

Flustered he shook his head and spoke quickly. "What? Oh no—no. Sorry, no. That's not why I was complaining."

She smiled at his reaction. "It's okay, Rick; I don't mind. I see how cramped you are on that couch."

"But, I shouldn't take it from you."

She tilted her head, curious. "Why?" Then, as he lowered his eyes and gazed up at her under his brow, she guessed the reason why. "Rick I think the time for chivalry has passed…"

"I disagree."

She shook her head. While his sentiments were sweet, they were also completely unnecessary. "Please take the bed. I insist, but be fair warned: Tux likes to snuggle and he doesn't care that it's hot and he's like a space heater."

Rick laughed, but then gave her a genuine nod of appreciation. "Thanks Kate. Really."

She nodded back. "Any time."

* * *

 _A/N: FYI the next update will be later on Sunday, because I'm going away for the weekend. Thanks!_


	5. Chapter 5

**FIVE**

"I'm telling you, Kate: when I called her name, Clara _totally_ came over to me!"

"I'm sure."

"She did!" The writer insisted as they made their way down the abandoned neighborhood streets. You had your back turned but she totally did—and the next time we visit them she'll do it again and then you'll really see."

A light laugh escaped her lips and she said, "Whatever you say, Rick."

Rick huffed out a breath, annoyed that she was dampening his excitement with her skepticism. It had taken three weeks of repetition, coaxing, and food rewards but the chickens were absolutely beginning to learn their names and no one could convince him otherwise. "Just birds" was what Kate had continued to call them, but he knew differently.

"You know, I once read this story about a guy who went on vacation with his pet chicken. Yeah—it's real, I read about it." He added at her beyond cynical expression. "He took the chicken with him everywhere and they posed for pictures; it totally happened. He had it with him in taxis, in restaurants… I bet that chicken knew its name."

Surprise evident on her face, she stopped walking and turned to him. "But that doesn't make sense! It would have been pooping everywhere!"

Rick considered this a moment before nodding. "Okay, yes—that's probably true; taking the chicken into the restaurant probably wasn't a great idea, but my point is that chickens can absolutely learn their names. You'll see, Kate; tomorrow you'll see."

She merely shook her head and continued down the street. Letting out a long exhale, Rick followed in her wake.

Finally, after two days of cloudy skies, rain, and general gloom the sun had come out. Rick had never minded rainy days until the end of society. Now, an unpleasant weather day meant either staying outside and suffering through the precipitation, or being closed up in a tight space with limited things to do and preoccupy time. Aside from one trip a day to feed and check on the chickens, Kate and Rick had been doing the latter.

The first morning wasn't bad; Kate read while he dusted. In cleaning up, he found a deck of cards and they'd played poker for the better part of the afternoon. Rick had always considered himself an excellent bluff, but Kate had won over half the hands; he had been very impressed. As evening set in and it became too dark for them to do much of anything, Rick's boredom grew and the next day wasn't much different. Yes, they were extremely pleased with how much water the storm had yielded them, so in that respect the rain had been necessary, but he was very glad to be out and walking around, getting fresh air.

That morning, they had spent two hours collecting and organizing their latest rainwater haul. As the skies still looked a bit cloudy, Kate was afraid to start the boiling and purification process for fear it might rain again, so they'd agreed to set out for the further away cul-de-sac and visit one of the houses they had not yet scavenged through. At least that way if it rained again they would be inside.

Turning into the street leading to their potential treasure, Rick tugged at the collar of his shirt and grumbled at the beads of sweat already beginning to form on his neck. It wasn't yet mid-day and without the beating sun the temperature didn't seem too high, but thanks to the recent rains the humidity must have been near one hundred percent. He'd grabbed the light green polo embroidered with a local country club's logo out of one of the houses thinking a golf shirt might be cooler and help wick the sweat away from his body. Evidently that had been a miscalculation; he should have stuck with the regular t-shirts.

Figuring it would be better than nothing, Rick unbuttoned the two buttons near the shirt's collar. In doing so, he momentarily took his eyes off the road. When he looked back up he was startled to see that Kate had her gun out and trained in front of her, both palms firmly gripping the piece. Immediately, his hand shot to the knife sheath on his belt while his eyes scanned the road in front of them for something groaning and dragging its feet, but there were no zombies in sight.

Just as he was about to ask her what was going on, she announced in a loud, booming voice. "I see you. Behind the red truck. Come out slowly."

Rick's gaze darted directly to the truck she referenced and his palm gripped the handle of his knife. He felt every cell in his body tense and brace for a fight. Save Kate, his recent interactions with humans had only ended in violence or robbery—or both—so he needed to be prepared. If whoever it was could hide themselves entirely behind the truck, there were probably no more than two or three of them, meaning their odds of coming away from the confrontation unscathed seemed in their favor.

Both Rick and Kate stood frozen in the middle of the street for the better part of thirty seconds, but no one emerged from behind the truck. Kate took three steps forward and Rick trailed behind her, looking continuously to his right and left so they would not be ambushed from another angle.

"This is your last warning: come out from behind the truck. I am a police officer and I'm armed."

With her final statement, a petite woman with dark hair and tanned skin popped up from behind the truck with her arms raised above her head in goal post stance. Rick watch Kate tightened her grip on her weapon as the woman approached them. She appeared to be crying and, unfortunately, seemed to be speaking a different language.

"I don't understand Spanish." The writer hissed to his companion.

"I'm sorry; we can't understand you. Do you speak English?" Kate asked, her voice a bit calmer.

The woman shook her head. "No; no English." Then, she continued to chatter on in Spanish. Rick was able to pick up an apology and her plea for something, but he was not able to translate it. It was only once the woman began pointing to her mouth and rocking her arms back and forth like a cradle that he was able to put it together.

"Baby food?" he guessed. "You need food for your baby?"

The woman merely continued to alternate pointing to her mouth and rocking her arms. Rick dropped his hands from his knife and walked around so he could meet Kate's eye. "I never saw any baby food in any of these houses." No baby food, no diapers; nothing that indicated they contained a child younger than school-aged.

"Me neither," she said out of the corner of her mouth. Then, turning to the woman she lowered her weapon, but did not put it away. "I'm sorry; we don't have anything for a baby." She told her. Then, she repeated it in broken, partially incorrect Spanish.

The woman took a step back from them, nodded, and said, "Gracias."

She turned to continue down the road away from their treehouse, when Rick stopped her. He pulled his water bottle out from the pocket of his cargo shorts and held it out to her. She refused, showing him the bottle she carried in a shoulder bag, and continued down the road without ever looking back.

Turning to Kate, Rick saw the she wore an expression that summarized how he felt. "Well shit," he uttered out, not really sure what else to say. Of all the endings to a zombie world human interaction he anticipated, that had not been one of them. He felt very sad for that woman to be on a quest for food for an infant and nothing else. She may have been the mother, aunt or simply a friend, but her mindset was singular to the point that her interaction with another group of humans—something that was presumably a rarity—meant little.

"Yeah…I wish there was something we could do to help her, the baby…"

"You think they have a camp near here?"

She shrugged and continued walking towards the cul-de-sac. "Possibly. She also could have been walking for days. Did you see her shoes? They were caked with mud."

Rick quickly glanced back over his shoulder towards the direction the woman had gone, but she was no longer in sight. He had not noticed the state of her feet, which was atypically unobservant for him. Then again, he had been largely focused on Kate, her gun, and what was happening with the woman whose speech he could not understand. "No, I…I didn't see."

She hummed. "Well they were. Given the storms we had she's either been wandering for a while, or walked through a flooded field—either of which is plausible."

Rick quietly followed Kate for the remainder of their trek. Though he knew there was nothing they could do as they could not provide something they didn't have, his thoughts remained with the woman and the baby she was trying to feed; the father in him couldn't help it. All he saw was a hungry child, and all the ones like it in the new, cruel world.

* * *

With a grunt, Kate heaved the storage bin full of dry goods up onto the kitchen counter. She wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand before reaching for her water bottle. Despite the humidity, the rain had cooled the atmospheric temperature down to unusually low temperatures for that time of year. Over the prior two days, she'd grown accustomed to the cool breeze flowing through the treehouse, which meant the stagnant, stifled, hot interior of the house was particularly unbearable.

All in all, their trip had been worth it. Though they found no water and only a handful of sodas in the fridge, the pantry had yielded plenty of cereals, pasta, and an entire case of protein bars. Better yet, behind the house they'd found two trees full of peaches. The fruit wasn't ripe quite yet, but Kate was already dreaming of biting into a fresh piece of fruit, not one covered in corn syrup and harvested from a can.

While she packed up the pantry, Kate had sent her companion upstairs to search for clothes, medicine, and anything else that might be useful. He had not returned, and she had not heard any movement in quite some time, which had her concerned. With her hand hovering above the butt of her weapon, she ascended the stairs to investigate.

After checking two of the bedrooms to find nothing, she spotted him in an open alcove area the family apparently used as a craft room. A table sat in the middle of the space with a jigsaw puzzle on it half put together. Beside the table were two chairs on a loveseat. Rick sat on one of the chairs, one of the family photographs clutched in his left hand. She watched him for several moments, waiting for him to react to her presence, but when he did not she called out his name softly.

He looked up at her slowly and turned the photo so that she could see. In it a girl with bright red-orange hair grinned; her front two teeth missing. Kate guessed she was around seven or eight in the picture. She wore a lime green one piece bathing suit and appeared to be standing with the water from a lake or ocean pooling around her ankles.

"Alexis had red hair," he said finally. Though he had never spoken her name before, Kate understood who he was talking about; she did not need to use any of her detective skills to deduce that this photograph reminded him of his daughter. "So did my mother…and my first ex-wife." He paused, looked towards the ceiling and then back at her. "I never thought about it before, but there's probably some Oedipus thing going on there that I shouldn't think about too deeply…"

She grimaced and nodded. "Understandable." Stepping around the end of the table, Kat sat down on the couch just a foot from him and asked softly, "What was Alexis like?"

He set the picture down on the table, clasped his hands together and stared off into the hall.  
"Amazing…" Then, looking back to Kate, he went into a bit more detail. "She was fourteen. Super smart—crazy, super smart. I honestly don't know where she got it from. She was so grown up for her age, a little adult. We were buds, her and I.

"Her mom left when she was about four—Meredith was never destined to be a parent, that's for sure. I'd been a stay at home dad from the beginning, only writing when she was napping or after she went to bed. I loved it. She was such a fascinating little person; I couldn't get enough. When it all started to fall apart, I knew it was my number one goal to protect her. Them—my mother was living with us at that point. And I…failed."

His final word drove a knife right into her heart. Kate actually winced from how broken he sounded. She'd never heard anyone so convinced in their own failure before. Worse yet, his conclusion was entirely wrong in her opinion. Scooting to the edge of her seat, Kate reached out her hand and placed it delicately on his forearm. "You didn't fail; it was an impossible situation."

A mirthless laugh escaped his lips. "Was it?"

Kate rested her elbows against her thighs and thought about him, what she knew about his life, what she knew about his wealth based on his career. When things started to get bad—really bad—the Manhattan elite who had not already left the city began to buy their way out. By that point, travel on the bridges and in the tunnels was heavily restricted; the subway had been shut down. Helicopters were still running, though, and if you could buy you way on one that was your ticket to freedom. Of course, air traffic was limited and monitored so the cost of a single seat quickly leapt into the five figure range. Given that she knew how successful Richard Castle was as a novelist, this figure did not seem out of his price range.

"Can I…can I ask why you didn't buy your way out of the city?"

He glanced over at her and nodded. "Considered it. Mother wanted me to, but I thought we'd be fine staying where we were. That's the thing I hate myself for—that I'll _never_ forgive myself for. I was…excited." He said the last word like it was poison in his mouth. "I always loved stories about zombies and the end of the world. I'd prepared myself. I was trained in weapons. The apartment was stock with enough canned and dried food for a year. I thought we'd be fine; that we could just wait it out. But…then the electricity went out, and I realized that with all my planning I'd failed to take into account one very important thing: security systems need electricity to work."

Kate cringed. "Ah, yeah, that is pretty critical." Extremely critical, especially as the looting started. There was just too much. The police could barely keep up with the reanimated corpses wreaking havoc on the city. Keeping up with the living hell bent on destruction was all but impossible, sad as it was.

"It's so stupid, insane really. We lived in the penthouse apartment in a secure building, but suddenly we were sitting ducks. I thought about barricading us inside, but then I thought what if there's a fire? We could have all the food and water we needed at our finger tips yet be burned alive, so we decided to leave."

Kate felt the skin at the back of her neck prickle. She remembered those early days with the brown-outs. The electricity was intermittent during the day, but at night when everyone was trying to use it, it was almost nowhere to be found. That's when people really started leaving the city. She'd felt as though her block had been abandoned, but suddenly at night hundreds would be in the streets. Stupid; it was so stupid. Traveling at night was by far the most dangerous and she never quite understood why people didn't realize. She'd wake up the next morning and have to fight her way through hissing and growling reanimated corpses just to get to her precinct. It was incredibly unsettling and she wasn't traveling with her child.

"We, ah, tried We, ah, tried to get out to our house in the Hamptons, figured it would be safer, less population…but there would have been no way. The roads were impassible for cars and the streets were just littered with zombies. I don't even think we would have made it out of Brooklyn alive, let alone all the way to Southampton.

"Instead, we, ah, found a group of four families traveling towards New Jersey and decided to go with them. I thought okay this is good—plenty of people to watch our backs. Yeah, the nights were still rough, but we had enough adults to sleep in shifts and keep the children safe. We used the rail lines and managed to make it to Newark without losing anyone, which given all I've heard is pretty impressive. We wanted to find a place to say, someplace where we wouldn't be fighting fifteen zombies an hour, but damn, did you ever realize how densely populated New Jersey is?"

Kate let out a breathy laugh; she and her partner had similar thoughts as they were making their way through the sea of undead.

"Anyway, um, we found a small group of houses off Route 280 that were reasonably secure and stocked. We holed up there for about a month. It wasn't quite as secure as the treehouse, but it was nice. We felt almost safe and I think…I think that was our problem?" His voice grew raspy and Kate could tell he was coming to the bad part of the story; the part where his family was irrevocably destroyed. "We were too comfortable—ironic given how much we complained about our day-to-day living and the lack of electricity and running water…"

When silence hung in the air for almost a minute Kate asked as generic a question as she could to keep the story flowing. "How many people were you with?"

"Oh, about twenty of us. Ten adults and ten children. Most of them were in the eight to eleven range; Alexis was the oldest. Smallest was around three. Though I'd left my place with a bunch of weapons, they'd been stolen in the night almost right away. Still had a handgun, though; two of the other men did as well. We felt reasonably safe. At that point, our biggest problem was water. And food, though less so at that time. We'd found a school and broken in to their cafeteria pantry. They had tons and tons of canned goods. The kids thought the vats of pudding were hilarious and a big treat; the adults not so much."

They shared a smile before he continued. "But no, water was beginning to become a real problem. The adults all sat down one night and we decided we needed to put together a party to look for supplies. Myself, two men and a woman. I…I didn't want to leave Alexis, but I also thought I could be of help on the road with my stupid apocalyptic training skills, plus my mother was staying with Alexis, not she'd be any real help; I don't think there's any record of anyone dying from watching a play. My mother was an actress," he added to clarification.

"Oh." She commented breathily.

"Anyway, the first run went great. We were gone almost an entire day, but we came back with a few cases of water. A few days later, we went out again…didn't do quite as well, but we found some food so it was still worthwhile. The next run we knew would be longer—overnight possibly. Just like all the other times we'd left two guns behind: one each for the remaining men to guard the children. But…it wasn't like all the other times."

Bracing herself for a heart wrenching tale, she asked cautiously, "Was it a horde?"

"No. Well, yes, ultimately, but no. It was people." His eyes flicked towards her as she breathed in sharply. His gaze dropping towards the floor, he continued. "We found a grocery store that was reasonably stocked. Not a lot of water, but bottled juice, and plenty of canned vegetables. Evenly whomever looted the store hadn't thought green beans were important," he said with a slight smirk.

"We had two shopping carts full, but getting out of the store we had complications. There were a group of about ten zombies blocking our way. Took us a few hours to formulate a plan how to get out safely. Then, one of the grocery cart wheels broke, which slowed us down. Finally, just before dusk, a big horde of zombies—maybe about twenty—moved through and we needed to find a place to hide out. I remember one of the guys being worried because the horde was traveling the direction we were going; towards our camp, but we told him no, it was fine. We were at least ten miles away and the zombies could easily change course direction; they would hardly walk in a straight line forever.

"We decided to stay the night because it was too dark to travel with the shopping carts. I remember lying awake and listening for gunfire. We were too far to hear the camp, I'm sure, but it made me feel better." He looked over at her, his eyes welling with emotion. "You know how people sometimes say they have a sixth sense about things. Like, suddenly, they have a moment where they knew something horrible has happened to a loved one?"

"Yeah." She responded softly.

He shook his head. "I didn't have that. Not at all. We started moving at dawn and I thought, this is great. Only about two or three more hours of walking and we'll be back with all this food. Then…when we got there…" He swallowed hard. "There were wandering around the streets—the children. I thought it was odd, but then I thought maybe they're playing a game. One of the guys ran over to greet his son and started screaming. Oh, god, the way he screamed." Rick covered his face with his hands and Kate felt tears begin to prick his eyes.

He cleared his throat after a few moments and continued. "I was lucky, I guess. 'Lucky,'" he repeated using air quotes and a disgusted tone. "My mother and daughter were shot execution style, so they didn't come back. One of them had chewed off Mother's hand, though. From the best we could guess, a group had come through, shot everyone, stolen the supplies, and moved on. The noise of their gunfire presumably drew in the horde that passed by us that night."

In another life perhaps Kate would not have been able to picture such a horrific seen; unfortunately, she could envision it quite clearly. She had passed many a decimated camp on her way to her treehouse oasis. Passing groups of bodies that appeared to be parents with children was undoubtedly the most difficult. Were it not for her highly compartmentalized cop-brain she surely would have suffered a great deal more anguish.

"Did anyone survive?" Kate asked.

Rick bobbed his head. "The youngest boy—he hid in a storage bin in the garage, but he couldn't tell us what happened. One of the men who was on the supply run with me lost his wife and three daughters. He shot himself the moment he found them." Rick looked up at her as a single tear rolled down his cheek. "I kind of felt like doing the same. My family was gone and in that moment it felt like everything was over."

"Oh Rick." Kate sighed out, her hand squeezing around his forearm a little tighter. She couldn't even begin to comprehend such a soul-crushing emotion. No wonder he hadn't wanted to speak about what happened when they first arrived; she was amazed he was able to talk about it at all.

"It just…it all felt like my fault. If I had been there, then I could have—maybe things wouldn't—and I just felt so…"

"No, don't; don't do that." She insisted. She had seen it so many times over the course of her law enforcement career: survivors' guilt. She knew first-hand how destructive it could be, but in the end it never, ever helped. Hard as it was, acceptance was the only way to navigate a healing path.

"But I…" His voice was lost to the tears streaming from his eyes, and Kate could hold herself back no longer. She dropped to her knees in front of his seat and wrapped her arms around him. He fell willingly against her, one arm looping around her back, his head coming to rest on her shoulder. Kate held him tightly, combing her hands through his hair for the better part of five minutes before the heaving breaths in his chest softened to occasional sniffles.

When his breathing had evened out, Kate slid away from him and cupped his jaw with her hands as she spoke to him softly. "I can't imagine how you must have felt, Rick, and I understand the instinct to blame yourself, but you can't. If you had been there, you would have died, too. That's the one good part of all this—your life didn't end and you can keep going. Don't you think that's what Alexis would want for you? What your mother would want?"

Sniffling, he nodded. "Yes, you're right; you're absolutely right, but I don't think I realized that until I met you."

Smiling softly, Kate couldn't help but lean forward and brush her lips against his forehead before sliding away and returning to her spot on the edge of the couch. Rick sniffed again and reached for a box of tissues on a nearby end table. After mopping under his eyes and beneath his nose, he gazed wistfully down at the photo of the red-headed girl once more. "I just, ah, I wish I had a picture of her. I lost my wallet and everything else I had with me. I'm afraid I'm starting to forget some of the details of her face."

She shook her head reassuringly. "I'm sure you're not. But you still have things at your apartment and your house, right? You'll get back there one day." Her comment did seem unusually hopeful. Even if the government could put stop to everyone turning into zombies—which, at that point, seemed like quite a large "if"—it would still be months if not years before they were able to clear out the existing zombies and make Manhattan inhabitable again. Still, the notion wasn't impossible, even if the possibility was half a decade or more away.

He gave her a very slight smile. "I hope so. Maybe."

* * *

"I bet you'll sleep well tonight," Kate said to her companion as he wound up Tux's green ribbon at the end of their play session that night.

Rick placed the ribbon in one of the kitchen drawers before turning to her and asking, "Why do you say that?"

She shrugged. "Generally after I have an emotional breakthrough I sleep pretty well that night."

"Oh," he said, his voice airy. "Maybe. I hope. But, uh, on that subject." He took a few steps towards her and she gazed at him, curious. "About the bed—I was thinking…maybe we should share; its big enough, don't you think?"

Kate pressed her lips together and considered his statement. The bed was a double, so far smaller than she was used to sharing with companions, but certainly not implausible to share with another person, though given Rick's large frame it would be tight. Ever since the night she'd offered it to him to enable to sleep more comfortably with his aching shoulders, she hadn't taken it back. It simply made more sense. She was shorter and therefore she should sleep in the smaller couch. The couch was fine; she didn't mind. In fact, it only became a problem when Tux tried to share too, but she generally just ended up pushing him off.

"I gave you the bed, Rick."

"And I'm offering it back. I mean, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you take the couch?"

Kate gave him a small smile. Though she insisted that chivalry could die along with the rest of normal civilization, she secretly loved the fact that he was insistent upon being a gentleman no matter the scenario. As he had let it slip that he was raised by a single mother, she suspected this to be the original of his sentiments, at least in part. Still, she was a bit hesitant, because there would be no way for them to share the bed without jumping up the intimacy factor in their relationship. Considering their hug earlier in the day had been the first time they'd really crossed the touch-barrier, she wasn't sure about taking that next step.

Apparently sensing her hesitation, the writer said, "I don't want to make you uncomfortable. If you don't want to share we can come up with some sort of alternating schedule…"

She almost laughed at how silly that arrangement sounded. "No, that's—no. Let's just try it tonight and see how it goes?"

He smiled at her. "Fine by me."

She nodded. Worst case scenario she just wouldn't sleep there the next night, but if it worked it would be nice to sleep with her legs stretched out once more.

They spent the next five minutes in quiet as they took turns getting ready for bed by brushing their teeth in the makeshift bathroom and changing out of sweaty, dirty clothes and into fresh ones to sleep. It was only once they were climbing into bed that Rick spoke tentatively. "Thanks…for this afternoon, I mean. You were so patient with me while I was having a full-scale breakdown."

Kate chuckled as he made it sound like he was screaming, ranting and throwing things. "I don't think I'd call that a breakdown as much as a completely natural reaction to everything going on."

He wavered his head back and forth, considering her statement. "Still...I know we don't know each other that well-"

"Don't we?" She interrupted, almost shocked at such a comment. "We have spent twenty-four hours a day together just the two of us for weeks."

"True, but I meant about our pasts. But anyway: I really appreciate you being there for me."

"Of course." She responded. Then, as she slid beneath the sheet on the bed, she thought more about his statement. He was entirely correct in that they did not know too much about each other's past. Though their situation was clearly different than had the met a year earlier back when the world was, for lack of a better term, normal, for Kate some things never changed. Had she met Castle back in Manhattan and they began dating, she would not have revealed too much about her personal life just three weeks into dating. That was still the vetting period. Hell, they probably wouldn't have even been spending nights together yet!

Clearly, spending twenty-four hours a day with the man changed things. They were forced to mesh their lives together and it had gone surprisingly well, with only minor issues to date. Given that, it only seemed reasonable that she share certain information about herself, particularly when that information related well to his current situation.

"The truth is I…ah, I actually understand how you feel completely, because my mother was murdered when I was nineteen years old."

The bed creaked as Rick sunk down on it with his full weight. His jaw hung slack as he commented in an ill-sounding tone, "Murdered? God..."

"Yeah it was and incredibly difficult time for my family, obviously. We struggled a lot; it changed my life completely and, ultimately, it was the reason I became a cop."

Though she knew the loss of her parent would not compare to his loss of a child, she hoped her story of perseverance would help him see that there was a light at the end of every tunnel, even if it was very far away.

Reaching over, Rick snagged her hand and gave it a squeeze. "I'm very sorry that happened to you."

She offered a small smile. "Thank you." Then, as she slid down under the sheet she sighed out, "Goodnight, Rick."

"'night Kate," he replied just moments before falling into a deep, peaceful slumber.


	6. Chapter 6

**SIX**

With a grunt, Rick heaved on the rope with all his might, hoping that final pull would be enough to bring his payload to the top edge of the balcony. Unfortunately, halfway through the movement his hand slipped and the rope began sliding backwards from his hands. He cursed and screamed, "No! No! No!" while desperately grappling with the slithering cord. Finally, he caught hold of it just before the basket full of his treasures would have crashed against the ground and presumably spilled everywhere. Phew!

Despite his relief that he did not have to climb all the way out of the treehouse and restack his items into the basket, Rick was not looking forward to the prospect of hauling the heavy load up once more. Lowering the basket all the way to the ground gently, he wiped his sweaty hands off on his t-shirt before gripping the rope and attempting to successfully finish the task at hand. He had the basket about halfway up when he heard, "You know, if you hadn't brought the whole library back with you it would be a lot easier to get up here."

He grunted and barely glanced over his shoulder towards the woman standing in the balcony doorway. "You going to judge me or help me?" A moment later he felt her pick up the rope behind him and they began pulling together. When the basket reached the top edge of the balcony and he heaved it over the railing he realized that perhaps she did indeed have a point. On the bright side, he'd gotten everything he wanted this time so he didn't need to go back again, which was good; that house was beginning to take on a peculiar and unpleasant smell.

For the prior week Rick had lamented about being bored. While his companion still had plenty of books she was interested in reading, when it came to his reading preferences he had already read all the ones of interest to him that he had found. The books remaining were ones he had either previously read or preferred not to read due to their uninteresting subjects.

After finding a notepad and pen in one of the houses, he'd attempted to get back into his writing, but the motivation simply wasn't there. Typically, he was good at writing under stress. Actually, that was when he got a majority of his work done, however their current situation had almost too much stress for him to get any coherent ideas out, so he had given up almost as quickly as he started. It was then Kate mentioned that one of the houses in the nearby cul-de-sac had a media room in the basement that she hadn't found anything useful in, but perhaps there would be reading material for him there.

That morning, while she did laundry in the main house, Rick set off towards the gray stucco exterior house she'd described to him. In the prior weeks, they had rarely split up while going about their day-to-day work, knowing that in the zombie-filled world the phrase "safety in numbers" was particularly true, so Rick found it almost odd to be traversing the neighborhood alone. Yes, Kate was three houses away, but having spent nearly six weeks side-by-side, it was strange to be separated even for a short period of time.

In the end, his sojourn had been well worth the trip. Not only had he procured books on more interesting subjects than how to rebuild the engines in cars, but he had discovered other treasures as well. Now that it appeared she was back from her laundry assignment, he couldn't wait to show her what he had found.

"Okay, so maybe I got a little overzealous, but I can't believe you said there was nothing good in that basement! There were _tons_ of good things. Like-"

"DVDs?!" She interrupted incredulously. Reaching down into the basket she pulled out two movies and held them up as though they were objects beamed down from outer space. "Why in the world would you bother hauling DVDs up here when there's nothing we can do with them?"

"Ahh!" He held up his index finger indicating he needed a moment. From the top of the basket he pulled a small pile of books and a few more DVDs before revealing his new favorite discovery lying in the bottom of the container. "Look what I found—a battery powered travel DVD player. Ah! I know what you're going to say!" He held up his hands again when he saw her lips begin to part, certain a scolding was on its way out.

"Let me save you the trouble. 'Rick,'" he began in a tone that mocked hers, "'We shouldn't be wasting batteries on something stupid like this DVD player.' Normally, I would agree; however look at our battery stock. We have dozens of double-A batteries, but only one of our flashlights takes them; the rest take C's. Especially considering we've hardly wasted anything in the six weeks I've been here, I think we can use four batteries on a movie night."

In Rick's mind, they owed themselves a treat. For the prior forty-five days they had saved every drop of water they could, wasted barely more than a few crumbs of food here and there, only used flashlights when absolutely necessary, and gone without virtually every modern convenience known to mankind. He wasn't complaining—honestly. On most days, their ultra-rustic lifestyle didn't bother him one bit. He was actually proud of how they were able to have a reasonably decent life given how limited they were. However, at the same time, they had more than earned a reward.

Noticing she was hesitant, he grinned at her and encouraged. "C'mon Kate. I'll even let you pick the movie."

It took thirty more seconds, but she finally relented with a head nod. "Fine; we'll watch it tonight."

He clicked his tongue at her. "You say that like you're not going to enjoy it, but I know you will. I'm even going to make popcorn!"

"How?"

Rick plunged his hand back down into the basket and revealed several plastic-wrapped packets. "You left microwave popcorn bags in that house so I grabbed them."

She folded her arms over her chest. "I left them for a reason. Namely, the key word 'microwave.'"

His brow wrinkled at her and his lips pursed together. He could not understand why she was seemingly doing everything she could to rain on his parade. Thinking back, she had been a bit short with him earlier that day when going off to do the laundry though he was unsure why. They hadn't argued or disagreed on anything that morning or the day before—at least, not to his knowledge. "Why are you grumpy today?"

"I..." Her voice drifted off as she brought one hand up to skim over her brow. "I don't know. I'm sorry. It's really hot and I just feel off today. Maybe that peach I ate this morning wasn't good. Or it's PMS." She finished with a breathy laugh.

"Oh," he responded, laughing as well. As far as he was concerned, that was fine with him. Everyone was entitled to an off day—even during the apocalypse. He easily understand why heat would be a factor, too, because he'd completely sweat through his t-shirt lugging his goodies back from the cul-de-sac and hauling them up into the treehouse had certainly been unpleasant. "Well, why don't you just go sit in the shade or something? I'll put this stuff away and then go check on the laundry."

"Oh no I-"

"Kate. Please." Rick cut her off, refusing to hear any of her rebuttals. "You do more than enough. Just take a few hours and relax." As far as he was concerned, she'd more than earned it. From the first day he arrived there she had been going above and beyond, doing everything and then some to make sure their makeshift home ran smoothly. At least once a day he had to remind her that she wasn't alone anymore and he was more than willing to share in the day-to-day tasks; in fact, he insisted on it. Usually when this happened her cheeks would turn slightly pink and she would quickly finish whatever she was doing and mumble out that he could help the next time. Rick often found himself trying to beat her to tasks just so he could share the workload. Finally after all their weeks together she was beginning to let him share, but it was still a struggle some days.

Though her expression indicated slight reluctance she did nod her head and say, "Okay; thanks Rick."

* * *

"Oh my gosh! You have real popcorn!" Kate proclaimed the moment Rick's torso popped above the treehouse trap door, a pot full of fluffy white kernels cradled against his chest.

"Uh, yeah, what else did you expect?" Rick responded. Honestly, she sounded like she had no faith in him. Of course he, as an adult man who had raised a daughter, knew how to make popcorn without a microwave! Okay, so he had only done it once, because, obviously, the microwave kind was a hundred times easier. And, yes, he had been concerned that the popcorn out of the microwave bag wouldn't work as well, but she made it sound as though he'd been using a magic wand to accomplish his task not a pot over a well-built fire!

"I…I don't know what I expected, but I'm very impressed."

He chuckled and held out the pot to her. "Maybe you should taste it first."

She reached in and pulled out a handful of kernels before popping a few in her mouth. She bit down and waggled her head to the side. "Really not bad. Maybe a little…smoky? But I don't think they're burnt."

"No that's what I was thinking; it's probably just the fire. We still have that garlic salt right?" He walked passed her and into the kitchen where he found the spice he desired. He shook some over the entire bowl before giving it a shake to distribute the seasoning.

Kate reached in, pulled out two kennels, and tasted them before declaring, "Better."

"Excellent."

Rick carried the popcorn bowl to the couch before grabbing the DVD player and its battery pack out of the basked by the balcony door. "Huh," he commented as he looked outside. "Guess I finished just in time; it's started to rain out there."

"Oh! Then we'll need to-"

"Got it." he said, winking at her, before grabbing the Tupperware containers they kept by the balcony door and heading outside. Since they used the balcony, they did not keep it pre-set up with their rain catching devices; they only set those up when it was actually raining. Fortunately, at that point the rain was barely a drizzle so Rick didn't get too wet accomplishing this task.

"So did you pick the movie?" he asked upon returning inside. He'd brought five just so they had a variety of choices—or in case they wanted to have a second movie night in a few weeks.

"Um yeah." She picked up the movie _Independence Day_ and held it up with a laugh. "This one feels oddly appropriate."

"Yeah…I don't know what's better: zombies or aliens. Probably zombies."

"How so?"

He shrugged before speaking his reasoning aloud. "Well, the zombies can bite or scratch you, but that's about all. They can't run or chase you that well. They certainly don't have space ships, lasers, or other highly advanced technology, so while there are a lot of them, they're an easier enemy to destroy."

She blinked at him. "That was a very thorough answer."

He laughed. "Well, I might have given it some thought." Or, a lot of thought—but she didn't need to know that.

Once they'd put the movie in the player, they sat together on the couch with the video player on a table in front of them. Unfortunately, the portable DVD player only had a six inch screen, making it difficult to watch from any sort of distance. When Kate commented on his, Rick pulled the player into his lap and came up with a quick solution.

"Here, we'll have to sit closer," he said, draping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her body up against his so she could more easily view the screen now balanced on his knee. When he realized just how close together he'd brought them, he asked tentatively, "Is this okay or are you uncomfortable?"

"No, no it's fine," she said, tucking herself against his shoulder and resting one of her hands against his side.

"Perfect."

* * *

Rick wasn't sure how far into the movie it was that Kate fell asleep, but it was at least past the halfway point. After a long day with high heat and humidity, he had to admit being tired as well, but seeing as the movie night was his idea, he was bound and determined to stay awake until Will Smith and his cohorts rescued the country from certain annihilation. Though she said she felt better after her hour-long break in the shade, he still did not want to wake her, particularly if she was finally sleeping after a long day. Unfortunately, the pins-and-needles feeling in his arm had a different opinion.

As carefully as he could, Rick shifted his shoulder back against the couch so he could move his limb around slightly. At this motion, Kate mumbled something he couldn't understand and flopped her arm down across her stomach, though she did not wake. Once he exhaled a relieved breath, Rick gazed down at her and suddenly found himself overwhelmed by a barrage of emotions.

Owing to the fact that they were two people existing in a small space completely isolated from all other still-living humans, he and Kate had grown progressively closer over their time together. In the prior three weeks, ever since they'd started sharing the lone bed in the treehouse, their closeness had only grown. They had gone from coexisting to sharing their lives, ending each night with soft conversation, and starting each morning with a smiled greeting.

Somehow, despite everything that had happened, despite the disaster state in which their world existed, despite the death and destruction that was interwoven with their everyday lives, Rick had fallen in love with the beautiful, incredible, strong, amazing woman curled up beside him. Living each day with her had made him happier than he ever thought he could be after the collapse of the world he knew. In any ordinary situation he wasn't sure he could have fallen in love with a woman in just six weeks, but their situation was far from ordinary; thus he believed his feelings were true—even if that presented him with a new problem.

Rick was genuinely afraid to upset the balance of their rhythm by confessing his true feelings to her. Living the way they did, with danger literally lucking around them hour by hour, the stakes were as high as they possibly could be. He was concerned that the strain of a romantic relationship would be too much for them.

For that moment with her body tucked so perfectly against his, Rick decided he would be content with their life as it was. He did love her, but surviving with her was the most important thing. Perhaps there would be a time for them to become intimate in the future; it certainly was not out of the question. He hoped their time would come, but until then he'd be happy with her as his partner in the new, uncharted world.

* * *

The following morning, Kate awoke to the mixed sounds of rain pattering against the roof of the treehouse and the soft breathing of the man beside her. She let out a long exhale and snuggled a bit closer to him. Her head rested against his shoulder and her arms were tucked against his. It almost— _almost_ —felt like they were waking up in a different world. If she blocked out her conscious thoughts about collecting water and going to feed chickens in the rain, she could imagine them laying in a bed in a regular New York apartment, the windows cracked to allow the sounds of rain to filter in. In that world, they did not face peril every time they descended into the forest; they did not continually need to fight to stay alive. Food and water were easily accessible; as was air conditioning.

The feeling of a paw lightly tapping on her head pulled Kate back to reality. She grumbled and lifted up her hand to pat the feline laying on the pillow by her head. "Two minutes," she grumbled at him quietly; he began to purr. Relaxing back into her pillow, Kate thought that maybe one day she would be able to live in that world again—the one that had been her norm for thirty years. At least, for the time being, she wasn't alone.

Stirred by either her voice or her movement, the man beside her shifted. His hand dropped down from his stomach and landed against her left thigh. Almost immediately his fingertips began to stroke the flesh exposed beneath her shorts until his whole hand splayed against her leg. This action caused Kate to breathe in sharply and her eyes to pop open.

Considering that Rick still looked very much asleep, she was guessing the move was unconscious, which was fine. His hand on her leg didn't make her uncomfortable—quite the opposite, in fact. For the first time since undead bodies began roaming the streets, Kate felt a flame deep inside her flicker back to life. Her cheeks flushed and she could feel a sensation low in her belly that while foreign was not unwelcome. She knew it then in that moment as clearly as ever: she wanted him; she wanted _them_.

Rick was a kind and caring man, who also happened to drive her crazy sometimes—well, a lot of the times—but as annoyed as she could get at him, he also reminded her multiple times a day that there were still things to smile about despite the horrible state of the world. Yes, they were surrounded by death, gloom, and almost constant fear, but she would look at him smiling and forgetting about all that almost became too easy.

With Rick, not a day went by without tons of laughter. Just a few mornings ago, Tux had decided the best way to wake them up was to use their fingers and toes beneath the sheets as playthings. Rather than shove him off, Rick had retrieved one of the strings they used to play with him, and they'd had a riotous session, running all over the bedroom, up on furniture and over and under the bed until the cat collapsed, panting with exhaustion. Kate had smiled throughout the whole event and it had her chuckling for hours afterwards. Without Rick, moments like that one would have had far less joy.

Back in Manhattan before the world decided to go to hell, Kate had favored advancing her career over finding a lifelong mate. Sure, she dated, but nothing had ever stuck. Though she probably would not have admitted it at the time, Rick was the exact type of man she had been looking for. He was different than the men she usually dated; had they met in a different social setting she probably would have been more annoyed by his silliness at first, but she was glad their situation had afforded her the opportunity to get to know him in a different way.

In part, finding him the way she did felt like a cruel twist of irony. She'd found an interesting man with whom she had excellent conversations and a great deal of fun; yet, what kind of future could they have together? What kind of future did they have at all? Surviving for several months let alone years seemed so unlikely at that point of time. If zombies didn't get them, surely some sort of illness or accident would or else they might simply run out of fresh water to drink. Still, laying there with him, she could not help but be hopeful; maybe they would have a chance.

Kate's peaceful moment of thought was destroyed not ten seconds later when a crack of thunder rattled the entire treehouse. Rick gasped and sat upright in bed, knocking Kate to the side unintentionally as he gasped out, "Whasa—whas happn'n?" in a still sleepy tone.

"Guess we're getting a storm in addition to the rain." Kate commented. The prolonged rain she didn't mind as it gave them more of their most precious commodity; however, the storm was a different beast all together.

Generally, storms that came with thunder also came with wind, which would most likely put their water collection system through its paces. She briefly considered going out and retrieving the water it had collected overnight so at least they wouldn't lose what was already collected, but then thought better of it. Odds were, if it was blowing that hard the tarp collection devise would break or get destroyed, but the water they'd collected would not blow away due to its weight, so it wasn't worth getting drenched for.

Kate watched as her companion pushed himself out of bed and wandered towards the window looking out onto the balcony. Given that his hand was just against her thigh—innocent or not—she did not feel bad about admiring how good his backside looked in the boxers he wore, so much so that when he turned back around she was wearing a silly grin that she quickly had to straighten. Of course, he caught her and asked what was going on.

"Nothing, 's just…Tux's tail is tickling me." She lied quickly to avoid embarrassment.

"Oh. Well it looks like the wind is really whipping out there. Wonder if this is a hurricane?"

She considered this for a moment. While it was unusual for their section of the east coast to get a hurricane, it certainly was not impossible and since hurricanes generally took place in summer, it was entirely possible the storm they were experiencing could have been a hurricane. Or, it could have been a run-of-the-mill severe thunderstorm; they had no way to tell. "Could be, but I guess we'll never now." She had not really thought about it until that moment, but they could even be facing a tornado and they'd never know about it either. She shook her head to push that thought from her mind; they had enough dangerous things to worry about without the weather being added to the list.

"Well," Rick said, stepping away from the window and reaching out for a clean t-shirt from his clothing pile. "Guess we won't be walking over to get eggs for breakfast."

"Just as well; that hot plate wouldn't work with this rain," she said, knowing that they needed ample sun on the solar panels to get it to work. "Dry cereal?"

"My favorite." He commented with a chuckle.

* * *

"Shit!" Rick proclaimed when the glass balcony door suddenly burst open, spitting wind and rain into their previously tranquil game of poker.

Kate leapt from her chair and rushed over to force the door closed. Then, for good measure, she grabbed the chair she'd been sitting on and braced it underneath the door handle. The doors, windows, and everything else in the treehouse had been rattling wildly for the prior hour, but she never expected one of them to burst open!

Turning back around, she found Rick gathering up the cards that had flown everywhere thanks to the wind. He picked them up and dried them against his t-shirt before collecting them in a pile once more. Glancing up to her, he chuckled and said, "Well that was one way to liven up the game."

She pressed her lips together. It certainly had startled her out of her gloomy day haze, but it had also brought a great deal of fear and concern. "I really hope the roof doesn't start leaking."

"Nah." He responded. "With the weight of those solar panels on there I don't think we're going to have a problem."

She nodded to his comment; that was a valid point she hadn't considered. Their roof, as well as the overall structure of the treehouse, was probably safe. The water collection system on the other hand… "I bet our water collecting tarp blew away."

A frown crossed his face as he sat back down at the table. "Oh. Yeah. Probably. We can rebuild it though. It'll be a pain, but you still have that final tarp, right? The new collection system won't be as big, but it'll be better than nothing."

"Yeah, that's tru—" Kate cut herself off mid-word and gasped when a horrible thought hit her. "The fence!"

"What fence?"

"The chicken fence!" She clarified, bringing her hands up to cover her cheeks. "Oh god I bet this storm ripped the chicken fence apart!" She was such an idiot! In the prior few days she had noticed that one corner of the fence seemed to be coming loose, but she'd constantly told herself, "Oh, I'll fix it next time," but never gotten around to it. If the wind was strong enough to blow open the balcony door, that fence had definitely been destroyed.

Rick waved a casual hand in her direction. "Please. The girls are probably hunkered down in their coup. Even if the fence did blow down they'll be fine."

Kate turned and walked towards the trap door as she continued to fret. "But what if they're not? And what if we don't get to them soon after the rain stops and they wander away? We have to check on them."

When she flipped open the trap door, a blast of wet air smacked her in the face. Yes, this trip was going to be immensely unpleasant, but it needed done. She was two seconds from dumping the rope ladder out the entrance when Rick stopped her. "What are you doing? You can't go now!"

She glanced up at him, incredulous. "You're the one who _named_ the chickens—aren't you concerned about them at all?" With the number of times she'd made fun of him for speaking about their three egg-layers as though they were his children, she couldn't believe he was stopping her.

He rounded his shoulders in submissions. "Of course I'm concerned and if we lose them it will be unfortunate, but not at the expense of one of us getting hurt in this storm!"

Kate was undeterred. "But we didn't even get to feed them yesterday afternoon because of the rain."

Rick reached out and brushed his hand down her arm before flipping the trap door shut with his foot. "And they'll be fine. Look, it's been raining since last night, right? This storm could easily pass in an hour or so. Then, we can check on them. Let's just not get too hasty, okay?"

With a huff, she nodded her head. "Fine." She'd relax for the time being, but there would be no way she'd let night fall without checking on the chickens.

* * *

"You didn't have to come with me," Kate said as her companion waited at the back door of the house wearing his newly acquired rain slicker. They'd hurried their way through the torrents of rain to the main house on their way to the birds. Rick suggested they check for trench coats or something to help keep them from getting soaked through to the skin. Unfortunately, they'd only found a men's jacket; the female ones were all cotton or fleece and would be useless in the storm.

Rick grunted at her. "Obviously, I do."

He was annoyed. Very, very, very annoyed. He did not want to be trudging through the pouring rain and whipping winds. He wanted to be in the treehouse where he would stay nice and dry, but _nooooo._ They had to go check on the chickens. The damn chickens. Of course he bonded with the chickens! Of course he appreciated their eggs! But at the end of the day they were just chickens. Even if the fence did break down and even if the chickens did wander outside their fenced area it was likely they would come back as they would need food and shelter. Even if they didn't come back, they would still be okay; they had other food.

But no, Kate had to check on the chickens—she _had_ to. Nothing he could say would talk her out of it, insane as it was. She was going, she had said, and he couldn't stop her, so naturally he had to go with her. They were partners and she needed someone to watch her back even if it was during a ridiculous and horrible storm.

"Let's just get this over with."

With a deep breath, Rick pulled open the back door of the house and took a half step back from the force of the wind. Putting his weight into his heels and bending his knees, he began to trudge forward. Unbelievable. The winds were so strong they were pushing against all two hundred and ten pounds of him as though he were wafer thin. He had no idea how Kate, who weighed significantly less, was even moving.

They hurried the best they could across the cul-de-sac towards the house with the chicken coop in the back yard. Rick winced as the rain stung his cheeks and eyes, glad his arms and torso were at least protected. The slicker was a bit warm to be wearing that day, but it was worth it not to suffer through the pelting pinpricks of rain.

"See!" Kate shouted at him over the whistle of wind. "The fence _is_ broken."

"Great!" He yelled back. He hoped she appreciated her victory, because from the looks of things he had been right as well. Through the wire of the coup he could see white feathers ruffling in the wind. Stabbing his index finger towards them, he called out, "They're in there—just like I said!"

Kate trudged over to the coup, bent down, looked inside, and then stood up, shaking her head. "Rick, only two are in there!"

Grumbling to himself, he joined Kate and saw she was, unfortunately, correct as only two pairs of black eyes blinked back at them. "Shit." He muttered under his breath. Clara was the one missing; he knew it. She was always the one who liked to wander towards the edge of their pen and only paid attention to him when food was involved.

"Well she probably got blown away in this." He shouted to her. At least, he thought, they still had two chickens left; that was better than nothing.

"Help me with this fence," she said, pointing towards the corner that had collapsed.

Working together, they hoisted up the corner post and attempted to shove it back into the ground, which was a far more difficult task than Rick expected. Despite the rains, the ground was frustratingly hard and the stubborn pole was refusing to go in the earth. Coupled with the fact that he could barely open his eyes more than a fraction, the ordeal was completion miserable. Finally, after several minutes of grunting and shoving, they managed to set the pole into place. Then, they split up to continue to set the wire fencing back into its proper position.

Grumbling to himself, Rick pushed at the hood on his slicker and wished he'd thought to grab gloves as well as a jacket. Not only was it difficult to grasp the metal fencing stakes because of their sharp edges, his soaking wet hands made any reasonable grip nearly impossible. Even wiping his hands on his hands on his pants every thirty seconds barely made any difference.

For the better part of five minutes he grunted and shoved, beads of sweat forming at the base of his neck and on his chest. With every movement he became progressively more annoyed with Kate. Yes, she had been right and the fence was broken, but Hannah and Shelby were in their coup and not leaving; thus they could have left the fence until the rain was finished but _nooooo_ ; they had to be idiots and venture out.

Cursing with each of the three final shoves, Rick managed to get the pole to stand upright in the ground. Then, he reached down to pick up the fencing and hook it over the top of the pole. Just as he was about to stand and announce he was finished and they should get the hell out of the rain, his ears were assailed with a blood-curdling scream.

Scrambling to push his hood back to enable an unrestricted field of vision, Rick whipped in the direction of the scream and saw Kate fifteen feet from him hunched over at her waist, directly behind her was a ragged, filthy figure with skin missing from its cheeks and gnarled bloody hands; its mouth was clamped down on her shoulder.

Rick couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. All he could do was stare as he came to the realization that in one moment everything they'd worked for had been completely and utterly destroyed.

* * *

 _A/N: Did someone order an evil cliffhanger? :)_


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: You guys! so many reviews for the last chapter! So what you're saying is that I should put characters' lives in mortal peril more often? Got it!_

 _kidding!_

* * *

 **SEVEN**

Rick was frozen; a statue in the middle of a fenced in back yard. Rain slapped against his exposed flesh and wind tugged at his clothing, but he took no notice. For him, the world had become still. He suddenly felt as though he'd left his body and was no longer living his life, but watching it through a television screen. Things slowed down to the point where time no longer progressed; everything was at a halt. His vision was warped; nothing made sense anymore.

A sick horror building in his gut, Rick blinked rapidly, the rain pouring off his scalp, down his brow and over his eyes, stinging them again and again with every drop. Somehow, with each blink he expected the scene in front of him to change, but it did not. With each eye opening, he was met with the same gut-wrenching vision: a zombie was attacking Kate; a zombie was biting Kate.

He'd seen attacks happen before and most of those times he was sad to admit his instinct had been to run. Granted, in each situation there wasn't just the one zombie, but several—never less than six—so running seemed the most logical thing to do. In that moment, however, Rick did not want to run. As his consciousness descended back into his body and the world's speed became normal again, he knew only one thing: he needed to save her.

"Kate!"

Though his desperate scream did nothing to deter the zombie, it served as his battle cry. His hand shot to his hip and he scrambled for his knife tucked on his belt, currently buried beneath his jacket, but it turned out there was no need. Despite her piercing screams, Kate evidently had her wits about her, because she took the fence pole in her hand and shoved it violently upwards, impaling it into the zombie's frontal bone. Murky brown blood gushed from its wound and poured down across Kate's neck and shoulder. As the zombie fell backwards, no longer a threat to anyone, Kate spun around and yanked the fence post from its head. Continuing to scream as though its teeth were still lodged in her flesh, she began stabbing the zombie repeatedly in its face and torso.

"Kate! Stop! Stop!" Rick called out, but it was no use. He wasn't even sure she could hear him over the sound of the storm coupled with her own screams. He tried to get close to her, but he dared not for fear he would be collateral damage from the way she violently swung the metal pole.

Finally, panting, she dropped the fence post and gazed over at him. They locked eyes for thirty seconds; neither of them moved or spoke. When he took a step forward, reaching out his hand and gently spoke her name, she turned away from him, stubbornly refusing as though she were a toddler. A moment later, seemingly at random, she took off running towards their camp, the chicken fence that had been so important not five minutes earlier now completely forgotten. Without consideration, Rick set off in pursuit.

Sprinting across the slippery grass as the wind and rain battered his face, the full gravity of their situation began hitting him and he quickly found himself overwhelmed. Rick wanted to cry. He wanted to scream, yell, and fall to his knees, cursing the world and everything in it.

Kate—sweet, beautiful, incredible, amazing Kate—had suffered a fatal injury right before his eyes. He was fifteen feet away, but there wasn't a goddamn thing he could have done about it—not with his back turned to her. Maybe if it hadn't been raining. Maybe if the wind hadn't been quite as strong. Maybe if he hadn't been wearing a hood that dulled almost all his senses. He knew for certain he would be reliving that moment and second guessing all their decisions until his last day on the planet.

Emotions now choking him and causing his chest to tighten, Rick's fingertips began to fumble with the slicker. What did it matter anymore if his clothes were soaked through? They were already wet from sweat anyway. Besides, nothing mattered anymore. Nothing at all.

Midway across the cul-de-sac he shed the rain jacket and continued after her. Damn she was fast. How the hell was she so fast? Oh. Right. As a cop she probably had to chase down criminals, where as he, the writer, only ran after perps in his mind.

As he rounded the corner of the garage of the main house, he finally caught up to her and reached out a hand to stop any further progress. He wanted to scream, grab her arms and shake her, demand to know why she hadn't listened to him. If they had just stayed in the treehouse like he wanted, they would be fine. They would be dry. They wouldn't have been attacked, but no, she had to check on the god damned, mother-fucking chickens.

He wanted to yell that at her, but he couldn't, because he had seen too much. If it wasn't this attack, it would be another one. A week, two weeks, a month from then. The timeline was the only unknown, but the attack was a certainty. If a horde of more than five or six came up on them they would both have gone down, no question. All the knives and guns in the world couldn't save them then; it was a numbers game and it appeared Kate's number was finally up.

"Where—where the hell are you going?" he panted at her, his heart still thundering from the sudden sprint.

She rubbed the back of her hand across her mouth and shook her head. "I ca-can't—I can't be around you if I've been bit."

Her tone indicated that she was crying, and it took the knife through his heart and twisted it just a little bit further. "Kate just-"

She turned away from the hand he reached out and moved two steps away from him. "It's okay; you don't have to worry about it. You can keep the treehouse."

His stomach lurched. God, he couldn't take it. He couldn't stand the concept of her not being there; of not waking up beside her. Not when….shit—why did it all have to end like this? "Stop it. Stop talking like that."

"What do you mean stop?" She spat the words at him, the evidence of tears quickly replaced by fury. "You know what happens to anyone who gets bit, don't you?"

Rick fought the urge to wince. He'd seen it only once to a member of the group he originally joined along with his mother and daughter. Before then, there had only been rumors and speculation. There had been so many zombies in Manhattan, it was plain the plague was spreading somehow. Some said it was air-born. Some said you needed to come in physical contact—like get their tainted blood in your mouth, eye, or an open wound. Some said it was not just a bite that was needed, but a full kill. In the end, it didn't much matter, since zombies rarely left their victims intact enough to survive.

One day, about three weeks after they'd left the city, his group came upon a trio of survivors, one of whom had recently suffered an attack. All things considered, the wound didn't look bad: a small bite across the top of two fingers. It looked like the kind of thing you washed out, put Neosporin and a Band-Aid on and it would be fine in five to seven days. In fact, that was exactly what they did: wiped the girl's hand down with sanitizing wipes, put on antiseptic ointment and a bandage. For a day, she was fine. Then, the fever set in.

A nurse in the group thought immediately it was an infection, so they gave her antibiotics, but the pills did no good. By the second morning the girl's body was slicked with sweat and she could no longer respond verbally. Her body shook, heaved, and shuttered for four miserable hours until she became still. He honestly hadn't known what was worse: witnessing the girl's parents watch her final moments of suffering or the looks on their faces an hour later when she was up grumbling and snapping at them with her teeth.

To imagine Kate in such a position was almost unthinkable. The mental image of her pale, sweat-covered and shaking made him want to vomit, but that didn't mean he was going to leave her, even if it would break his heart to stay. "Yes, Kate; I know." He rasped out. "But-"

"No 'but' Rick; this is the end."

She tried to walk away, but he was too quick for her. He grabbed her arm and held her firm. "Stop. We need to—let's just—god damn it I cannot even thinking with this damn rain!" They needed to think. They needed to talk. They needed to plan and all of that needed to be done while secluded from the elements.

Using his hand under her arm as leverage, he dragged her past the garage and up onto the back porch to the door they'd left unlocked. "Get inside," he told her, but she merely blinked at him.

"What's the point?"

Tired of her stubbornness and more than sick of being pelted with precipitation, he gave her a little shove. "Just go."

* * *

As Kate stumbled inside the house, her feet evidently giving up along with her heart, she felt a pinch in her shoulder wound and suddenly felt as though her stomach were about to leap out of her mouth. She could still feel them—the teeth scraping against the flesh on her shoulder. She would remember that moment for as long as she lived—however much longer that was—and probably into the hereafter, if there was such a thing.

Stupid. She had been so stupid.

She had spent the prior six months being the high-alert, highly-trained cop that she was only to allow herself to be blinded by, what? Compassion for chickens? She was a moron!

Why hadn't she realized that if she could barely hear Rick yelling to her through the wind and the rain she would never be able to hear the grunts, groans, and scrapings of an approaching zombie? Stupid. So fucking stupid. She had committed suicide for a few eggs.

Rick had been right; it wasn't worth it. As was her M.O. she hadn't listened to anyone else because she thought she was correct, and in the end that had been her demise. The sad part was her manor of death wasn't even that shocking. How many times had her CO's told her that she was too stubborn for her own good? That her charging into a situation without backup, with utter disregard for her own safety, was going to get her killed one day? If she'd heard it once, she'd heard it a dozen times. As a cop, she'd accepted it, because she still felt as though she was doing the right thing. In this life? She wasn't so sure.

"Kate. C'mere. Let me look at your shoulder and see how bad it is."

She let out a mirthless laugh and refused to look at her companion. "What does it matter? A bite is a bite."

Possibly if she had her finger bit or maybe even her hand they could cut it off and maybe— _maybe_ —she could survive it. But her shoulder? They'd have to cut off half her body, which was not only impossible, but one hundred percent not survivable.

"Just let me look at it."

Kate was vaguely aware of Rick's hand against her arm, guiding her towards the breakfast nook area of the home where there was the most light. She felt him pulling her soaking wet hair away from her neck and tugging at the edge of her now filth-covered t-shirt on the side she was wounded. When he said, "I need to take your shirt off to see," she stood there like a mannequin and allowed him to lift her arms and take her top off. She was too lost in her thoughts to care what was happening to her physically. In her head, Kate was planning.

She would not allow herself to turn. If nothing else, she would leave the world knowing her undead body could not do damage to others. In order to remain dead, she needed to end her life by inflicting damage to her brain in some way. The gun back in the treehouse made the most sense. Though it would be hard—damn near impossible—she knew she'd have to be the one to pull the trigger. She couldn't do it in the treehouse. She couldn't do it in the woods just in case Rick would come across her body while gathering wood for a fire or searching for food.

"You don't have worry, Rick," she rasped out, her voice suddenly thick with emotion. "I'll take care of it myself. I'll go into one of those houses we don't use. I'll have to use the gun, but…but you'll have to come get it after so you have it." The last thing Kate wanted was for Rick to see her body with her skull and brain no longer intact, but there was no other way. She couldn't use the gun and return it to him, but yet she knew he was better off with the weapon, even if she did only have less than a dozen bullets remaining.

"Kate." She was vaguely away of the feeling of cloth against her neck. Evidently Rick was using her soaked t-shirt to wash the zombie blood off her flesh, though she wasn't sure why. Why did it matter how clean or dirty she was when her time left alive was now measured in minutes not even days?

Kate felt her hands begin to tremble at the concept of ending her own life. Standing there in that moment, the concept was hard to fathom. She never understood suicide, but that was back when she lived in a world with hope. Even as it was now in its post-apocalyptic state, the world had hope, though admittedly a significantly lower amount of it. Before Rick came along, she could not say she considered suicide, but she did struggle to see a reason to continue living day-to-day when the end seemed so inevitable. With Rick, however, everything was different.

She shook her head and her bottom lip began to tremble as she remembered her thoughts from that morning, lying in bed with him. She'd thought about a future. Right. A future. Just about the only good thing about her injury was that it afforded her the opportunity to say goodbye and make sure the one she left behind was well taken care of.

"You remember where my food stores are, right? I can show you again, I guess. I probably have about a day, maybe two, before things get really bad. I can't wait too long, though; I don't want you to have to do it."

"Kate."

"It's fine." She knew he didn't want to talk about it. Hell, she didn't want to talk about it, but that's what this new world brought: hard times and harder decisions. Sniffing, she brought the back of her hand up to rub against her nose. "It's funny. Being a cop, I always thought I'd take a bullet, I just never thought I'd be the-"

"Kate!" His voice was forceful enough to surprise her, but what really shocked her was the way he grabbed both her biceps and spun her around so she could face him. His expression was difficult to read; an odd amalgamation of relief and nausea. "Kate your skin isn't broken!"

His words barely processed in her brain. Her brow wrinkled as she studied the migrating emotions on his face. "What?"

He half laughed and released one of her arms so he could brush the underside of his nose. His eyes welling with emotion, he shook his head gently at her. "The skin isn't broken Kate! You weren't bit!" Without even waiting for her to respond, he pulled her into his embrace and crushed her body against his chest.

Kate still struggled to process his words. She heard them, but they didn't make any sense. His voice had been happy—excited, even. His face was no longer pale, but steadily filling with color. And now he was hugging her so tightly she could barely breathe. "I—I don't…"

The writer pushed himself back but continued to hold onto her arms as he tilted his head to the side and gazed at her curiously. "Kate are you alright? Or are you in shock?"

"I don't…" She began slowly as she brought her left hand up to skim over the bare flesh on her right side just below her neck. She smoothed the pads of her index and middle fingers over the pristine area, utterly amazed. "I don't….but I….I felt him bite me!" That's how she knew the zombie was behind her; the sharp arch of teeth against the top of her scapula.

Rick shook his head. "He must have only gotten your shirt."

Kate immediately felt she was on the decent of the world's tallest rollercoaster. Her breathing sped and her heart raced; her vision began to cloud in from the sides and she swayed on her feet. "I…I don't…are you sure?" Oh god, oh god, could this be happening? Was it even possible that she was not dying?

For the first time that afternoon, a grin broke out onto Rick's face and his disbelief turned to full-blown joy. "Yes! Yes I'm sure!" He gripped her cheeks with his hand, kissed her forehead and pulled her body into his. "You're okay; you're going to be okay."

Despite her companions happy laughter, Kate still couldn't move; nothing in her brain was making sense. "Oh—oh I god I—I thought-"

"I know, I know." He sighed and rocked her back and forth in the hug. "But you're going to be okay!"

Suddenly, as her pulsing adrenaline began to subside, Kate felt certain she was going to vomit. Using her hands against his sides she pushed herself away from him and, for an inexplicable reason, sprinted not towards the kitchen sink, but out the patio door. In her haste, her sneaker slipped against the concrete surface and she collapsed down onto her hands and knees, waiting for the heave of her stomach, but it never came. With the rain pounding against her back, Kate hyperventilated and tried to calm her racing heart and scattered mind.

She wasn't bit. She wasn't bit. She wasn't bit.

Though Rick seemed quit convinced, she struggled to believe it, especially when she could still feel the moment of impact so vividly. Using her fingertips, she traced over all the skin she could reach but found no indentation. The skin was clean and unbroken as he said, yet if she shut her eyes, she could still feel the ghost of the zombie's teeth as though they were still there, gnawing at her flesh, but they weren't.

She was okay. She was alive. She was going to keep living.

Slowly, using her fingertips against the concrete, Kate pushed herself up into a crouch and then into a full standing position. The rain smacking against her eyelids made it difficult to see, but she hardly took much notice. All she could see was Rick watching at her from where he stood in the doorway. Her shirt still hung limp from his hand and he gazed at her patient, but concerned. Putting one foot barely a few inches in front of the other, Kate approached the house once more.

He stepped aside to let her in and shut the door behind her as he spoke her name gently. The sound of her name on his lips sent her mind reeling back to the moment of the attack when, despite her own screams, she heard her name vault across the clearing when he yelled. His tone had been frantic, desperate. As he'd chased her down, it had been pleading, his eyes filled with terror. The idea of how deeply her absence would have affected him rocked her to her very core and her body shuddered.

"We should probably get out of these wet clothes."

His voice was barely above a whisper, but when she turned to him, her heart caught in her throat. She had almost died. She had almost died without ever kissing him, touching him, or telling him how she felt about him and that would have been a horrible mistake.

Their lives were so delicate then. Anything could change in an instant. The post-apocalyptic world did not afford them the opportunity of time or second chances. They needed to live for the moment in the moment and that was precisely what she planned on doing.

Stepping up to him, Kate locked eyes with the writer and reached out for his belt. "Yes," she said just as her hands landed on the buckle; she watched him swallow hard. "We should." With that, she popped the buckle open and she heard his breath as it hitched in his chest.

"Kate."

Tingles flooded down her spine at the husk in his tone. There was no question in her mind that he wanted her just as much as she wanted him. Rising up on her toes, she skimmed her hands up his chest, over the back of his neck and into the hair at the base of his skull. It was soaking wet and dripping water down onto her wrists, but she didn't care; she only needed him.

With very little effort, she guided their mouths together. Their lips met just as his hands fell onto her hips and he drew her in. The kiss shot white lightening across her vision. For the first time since the world ended, Kate felt truly alive again and she knew that Rick was the man she was meant to be living for.

Breaking their kiss, Rick leaned back and gazed down at her, love pouring from his eyes. He skimmed his right hand up her side and landed his fingers against her cheek. He skimmed her damp flesh with the pad of his thumb and, slowly, they both smiled and shared a breathy laugh. "Kate." He sighed again and she needed no further invitation.

They flew together once more lips colliding as hands grappled at clothing and flesh. It wasn't until that moment that Kate fully realized she stood before him in only a bra, but at that point her state of undress was merely saving them time; it was already inevitable.

"Oh, god, Kate." Rick groaned as her tongue smoothed over his lower lip. Using his hands cupping her ass as leverage, he turned her body and began walking her backwards towards the adjoining seating area. "Couch?"

"Uh huh," she replied, breathless. She pulled his belt from out of the loops on his pants and let it drop to the floor with a thud. When she grasped at the button on the pants, he let out a groan that traveled down her spine and landed directly between her legs. She hadn't had sex in months and it never bothered here until that moment when she could think of nothing but getting them both undressed as quickly as possible.

As Rick mirrored her movements and unbuttoned her shorts, he asked, "Have you been with anyone since-?"

"No."

"Me neither."

As they had reached the couch, their mouths separated for the length of time it took Kate to pull his drenched shirt up and over his head. She gave it a toss and the fabric landed with a slap against the hardwood. Placing her fingertips against his breastbone, she gave the writer a tiny shove so that his knees collapsed and he landed with a small grunt on the couch. She grinned and pushed her shorts off her hips before straddling his lap wearing nothing but her undergarments.

Kate kissed her way across Rick's jaw and throat, licking up the beads of rainwater and feeling the roughness of his beard against her tongue. He groaned and dug his fingertips into the flesh at her hips until, suddenly, he pushed her away and cursed. "Wait, wait…shit."

Barely able to focus on anything other than their mostly-naked bodies, Kate breathily asked, "What?"

"I don't—I mean we don't have any birth control. That's bad, right?" he asked, his face contorting into a grimace.

While she did agree that an unintended pregnancy during the time of no electricity and no accessible medical care would be a problem, it was one they most unfortunately did not have to worry about. "'s fine," she said skimming her hand down his chest and over his toned stomach. "I have an IUD." As any pills, rings, or patches would have long since run out, she had never been more thankful for that late-twenties family planning decision.

"That works."

"Definitely." She echoed, grinding her hips against his lap. His jaw dropped as his mouth formed an O-shape and she almost chuckled; he was adorable. Reaching her arms behind her, she expertly undid her bra clasp and tossed the garment over the back of the couch. The writer's jaw dropped even further if that was possible.

Rick's hand skimmed from her hip up her side and to the underneath of her breast. Shaking his head, he breathed out, "You're so beautiful," before pulling her body into his so he could use his lips against her neck and throat. "I was….I was so scared…scared I'd lost you," he said in-between kisses.

"I know."

"But you're okay...you're here…and you-"

"Rick." She cut him off and tapped the underside of his chin so he would look up at her.

"Yes?"

"Do you always talk this much?" While adorable, his attempt at conversation was also a bit distracting.

A slight blush crept into his cheeks. "Um...sometimes." Then he shrugged sheepishly. "Curse of a writer."

"Well then maybe you should focus more on kissing me." She suggested before bringing their lips back together.

With his arm around her back, Rick guided Kate to the couch beneath him, their lips still intertwined. Just as he was about to stretch out above her, thunder cracked overhead so violently that the entire house shook. It started them both so much that their lips broke apart with a gasp. Kate even looked around, half expecting the ceiling to be damaged in some way.

"You know, I think there's a joke in here somewhere," Rick said as he used the opportunity to divest himself of his remaining items of clothing before joining her on the couch once more.

"What joke?"

"Something about feeling the earth move during sex."

Despite the intimate mood, Kate couldn't help but laugh at his cheeky grin. She used her hand behind his head to pull his solid weight back down on top of her; in that moment she had never been happier to be alive.

* * *

 _A/N: and you guys were so worried :P But seriously - thank you so much for all the reviews!_


	8. Chapter 8

**EIGHT**

The following morning Rick did not awake to the sound of chirping birds or, thankfully, the sound of rain pattering against the roof (as much as they needed the water, he had had quite enough of rain thanks to the prior afternoon's events—at least, for a few days). Instead, he awoke to the feeling of a ten pound feline sitting directly on his breast bone and purring less than two inches from his face. He grumbled and reached out a sloppy hand to give Tux a stroke. The cat leaned into his touch and soon flopped down on Rick's chest and rubbed his face against Rick's chin and jaw. The man coughed from the feeling of fur entering his mouth, but really he didn't mind. Nothing short of zombies learning to climb up into the treehouse would have damped his mood that morning.

A few moments later, when Tux's purrs had turned to insistent meows, the writer grumbled and sat up in bed. Tux hopped down to the ground and happily began leading his owner to the room that held his food bowls. Rick caught sight of a clock in his way into the kitchen and saw it was barely ten-to-six in the morning; he grumbled. "You can never sleep in, can you?" he asked the black-and-white fur ball. Tux merely yowled in response; Rick took this as a "no."

After dumping a can of food on a plate and putting it on the ground, Rick yawned and leaned back against the kitchen counter, considering his next course of action. Going back to bed was obviously one choice, but despite the early hour he actually did not feel that tired, which was probably due to a lengthy nap the afternoon before. Instead, he decided he was hungry, which afforded him the perfect opportunity to present the lady in his life with breakfast in bed.

Normally on such a morning he would go all out: pancakes and bacon or waffles dripping in chocolate and whipped cream. And coffee—there would definitely be copious amounts of high quality, freshly-ground coffee. Sadly, in their present state he was unable to concoct any of those things. The most romantic breakfast he could muster was cut up peaches served over dry granola; but it was better than nothing. As he sliced up the fruit, he couldn't help but smile as he reflected on the prior twelve hours.

The prior afternoon after making love Rick and Kate lay on the couch listening to the sounds of the rain lessen from violent droves to a softer pattering. As they were already in the process of dozing, neither of them suggested moving until the rain had all but come to an end an hour or so later. They hurried back to the treehouse with the intent of putting on dry clothing and finding some food, but ended up falling into bed and making love again before spending the rest of the day laughing, talking, and only moving from their oasis to get something to eat.

After losing his home, his family, and everything he used to recognize as reality, Rick never thought he could have a perfect afternoon again, but he had the day before, and he had every intention of having another one that day as well. In fact, he wanted the entire day to be perfect, which was why he was starting it by making breakfast.

With their cereal bowls completed, Rick grabbed two spoons and returned to the bedroom carrying their meals. He entered just in time to see Kate arching her back in a stretch as she reached her hands up high over her head. In doing so, she exposed her bare chest and he grinned, though it wasn't simply the sigh of her breasts he was smiling at, but her—every beautiful inch of her.

Standing there, watching her, he realized how silly he had been to second guess transitioning their friendship to more. Experiencing what he had the day before made him realize there was no way he could have waited one more second to love her and be with her in that way; life was too precious.

Kate was incredible. He knew it before, but after making love no doubt existed in his mind. Just how close he had come to losing her would make him sick if he thought about it too long. He didn't want to think about it because he didn't want to lose her and knew from that moment on he'd do everything in his power to keep her safe; to keep them safe.

"Mmm-morning." She hummed when she opened her eyes and saw him standing a few feet away.

"Morning." He echoed. He walked over to her, brushed his lips against her forehead, and then handed her one of the bowls and spoons. "Made you breakfast."

Her expression brightened the moment she accepted the bowl. "Oh. Wow. That's very sweet—thank you!"

He merely shrugged as he took a seat by her feet with his own breakfast. "It's nothing special. If we were back in my apartment I would have made you the best breakfast you've ever had."

She chuckled and scooped up one of the peach pieces with her spoon. "The best breakfast I've ever had, hmm? I hope I get to try that someday. But in the meantime this is perfect."

Not a minute later, Tux jumped up on the bed in between them and stuck his entire face in Rick's cereal bowl while he was in the middle of chewing. "Hey!" He groaned, yanking the bowl away. Tux yowled at him and reached out for the bowl with his paw. "No!" Rick said, giving the cat a nudge with his elbow. "What are you doing? This isn't for you—you just ate!"

Kate laughed. "Maybe he thinks it's his dry cat food; it might smell the same."

The writer grumbled as he took another bite while being protective of his bowl. "It better not; this is high quality store brand granola." Tux yowled loudly before jumping down off the bed and propping himself up in the doorway to lick his paws. "What's his problem?"

"He's probably mad at us for kicking him out of the bedroom for most of yesterday."

Rick grunted. It made sense; the cat had made his displeasure known by scratching at the door and yelling when he'd been banned. Fortunately, he didn't notice the racket for too long as he was quite happily occupied. Turning to the feline he said, "Well, prepare yourself: it's going to happen again in about twenty minutes."

"Twenty minutes?" Kate asked, her voice ringing with curiosity.

"Yeah, as soon as we're done with this," he said, gesturing towards their breakfast.

An expression of amusement crossed her face. "I see. Did you have anything else on our schedule for today or…?"

"No, not really; just lots of sex."

Kate laughed. "Well, I hate to disappoint you, but we do have plenty to do today—things that involve us being clothed and outside of this treehouse," she added for clarification.

"Such as…?" he asked, seeing absolutely nothing that took precedence over celebrating the fact that they were alive over and over and over again.

"Well, first, we have to check on the chi-"

"NO!" He cut her off immediately. "Are you kidding me? You're _never_ going back to that place again."

"Rick!" She said, her tone indicating a mixture of annoyance and amusement. "That's absurd. Obviously, I'm going to be a lot more careful this time. Besides, we have to get the eggs, fix the fence, feed them, possibly go and look for Clara…"

He huffed. All enjoyment he had for Hannah and Shelby had vanished the moment of Kate's near-bite. Deep down, he knew he was being childish, but for the time being he did not want Kate to set foot anywhere near the chicken coup and if that meant losing the chickens, so be it.

"Plus," Kate continued, "we have to collect all the water. We must have gotten gallons and gallons of it—how great is that!"

On that point, Rick did need to concede. The horrible storm had given them probably nearly a month's supply of water, and that was nothing to take lightly. "Alright—we'll collect the water, make sure it's all secure so we don't lose any of it and then," he paused to lean close to her and waggle his eyebrows, "we'll come back here for some fun."

The grin on her face began to mirror the one on his as she said, "Sounds like a plan to me."

* * *

"It's not that I don't appreciate the rain; I do. But did we have to get so—ugh—damn much of it all at once?" Rick grunted as he hoisted the final basket of water up and over the balcony railing. They had spent nearly four hours collecting, organizing, boiling and storing their water harvest—far longer than Rick had wanted to, but as Kate pointed out, if they did it all at once, they would be done. Of course, their work was never done. The water collections system had been destroyed as she predicted, so it needed rebuilt, but she agreed that was a project they could start on the next day.

After stomping out the fire they used for water purification, Kate ascended the rope ladder and hoisted it up behind her. "I know; it's frustrating to have a few washout days like that, but what are we going to do? Despite your attempts at rain dancing, we cannot control the weather."

"I think right now we need an anti-rain dance," he pointed out. "And, really, it's not so much the fact that it stormed as the fact that we didn't know it was coming. Honestly, I think the thing I miss most is the weather app on my phone."

Kate walked to the balcony doorway and gazed at him. "Really? The thing you miss the most is something that was inaccurate half the time anyway? Not, oh, I don't know, consistent access to food, running water, electricity…"

He gave her a slightly perturbed look. "Point taken."

She flashed a smile at him. "I'm teasing—kind of." She definitely was not joking about any of those three things as they were the top three things she missed the most about the pre-apocalyptic world—in ranking order. Yet, she understood where he was going with his statement. "I know what you mean, though. I never really thought about the weather report before, but now that our lives are so nature-dependent it matters a whole heck of a lot more."

"Precisely."

Walking into the treehouse from the balcony, Rick drained his water bottle and then rested his hands heavily against the countertop. Thanks to the rains, the day was significantly cooler than the prior week had been, but Kate knew that didn't make the task of hauling up gallons and gallons of water any easier. Walking over to him, she wrapped both her arms around once of his and pressed her lips against his shoulder. "Are you ready to have some fun now?"

"No!" He groaned. Then, he gave her a sideways glance. "This was part of your plan, wasn't it? Tire me out with heavy lifting so we didn't have to have sex again."

She laughed as it did sound like something she could have contrived, but that could not have been further than the truth. "I swear it wasn't. I definitely want us to have sex again. It was…kind of amazing." She husked with her lips against his cheek. And she wasn't just saying that because of the ten month dry spell she'd previously experienced. Making love to Rick had been more than just life-affirming, but life-changing.

"Well, I don't think I can disagree with that." He turned towards her and moved his hands from the counter to her waist, drawing her in for a sweet kiss. She pressed her body against his, giving his hips a little tap with hers and he groaned into her mouth, immediately skimming his hands down her hips and beneath her thighs so he could hoist her up on the kitchen counter. Her head bumped against the cabinets, which didn't hurt so much as surprise her, so she merely laughed and continued to kiss him.

With her heels locked behind his knees, Kate had every intention of making Rick forget about his exhaustion, but after several moments of kissing it appeared he had other things on his mind, because he pulled back and gazed down at her with an expression so peculiar she had to ask, "What's wrong?"

"About yesterday. I…I was so scared, Kate; so scared."

She felt tears begin to prick at her eyes at his devastating tone. They hadn't talked about it, not really. After making love she'd been too happy to bring up such unsettling thoughts. Her nature as a cop was to bury it down, pick herself up and move on, but she understood his need to talk it through.

She brought her fingertips up to skim against his cheeks and sighed, "I know; me too."

"Truly. I think that was the most terrifying moment of my entire life. Possibly second only to the time when Alexis fell head-first off the monkey bars when she was four."

Kate grimaced at that awful-sounding event. "Was she okay?"

"Bit her lip, needed three stitches, but otherwise yeah."

"Oh."

"But Kate…when I saw…" His hand traveled up her right arm and landed at the spot in between her neck and shoulder, right where the zombie's teeth had come millimeters from puncturing her flesh. She shuddered at the memory.

"I know." She murmured as the tear escaped her eye and slid down her cheek. "I…I'm not ready to go yet." Somehow she knew she had more living yet to do—and not just day to day, trying to survive, but _living_. She and Rick—they were going to make it through this undead-filled world and get to the other side where a semblance of a normal life could be found again. They'd earned it and so they would get it.

"Kate," he said, desperation a bit more evident in his tone, so she looked up at met his eye. "I'm not ready for you to go. I'm not ready to go either, because, Kate, I-"

Rick's words were stolen from his throat by the piercing echo of a gunshot echoing through the otherwise silent forest. Both occupants of the kitchen gasped and looked in the direction of the patio door. Tux growled and slunk off the couch towards his safe-haven under the bed.

"What was-"

Kate clamped her hand down over her companion's mouth to silence him. She pressed her index finger against her lips as an indicator that he should be quiet. Delicately, she slid down from the counter, dropped to her hands and knees, and crawled towards the still open balcony door. She slid on her stomach out just far enough to be able to peer down into the clearing. In that moment, she had never been so thankful that not only was their fire out, though disappointingly, not cold, but the rope ladder was also raised, making them nearly invisible from the ground.

For a solid three minutes she practically held her breath, not daring to move an inch. She took shallow, controlled breaths to make as little sound as possible just in case whoever shot the gun came close enough to the treehouse to be heard. Just when she was about to give up, she heard voices drawing nearer.

"Do you see any more of them?" said a man with a deep, gruff voice.

"Nah, I think it was just that one," responded another person with a higher pitched voice, though Kate guessed it was also a man.

"Oh, hey. Look over here!"

"What's your problem?" grumbled the second man.

"Look at this. Jesus, it's like a massacre."

Just then, the figures entered the clearing and Kate could just barely see them through the slats in the balcony railing. They both carried long rifles in their hands and one had a spare strapped to his back. Scooting closer to the edge of the balcony, Kate saw that they also both appeared to be toting machetes and smaller knives on their hips. From their discussion, she could only guess they were referring to the wall of zombie bodies she used to camouflage her scent the treehouse and discourage any humans from getting too close.

"Think any of these bodies are the family from that big 'ol house over there?"

"Who knows, who cares?" The second man responded. "Whoever they are, they're long gone."

"Probably right. Let's get out of here and go see if we can find Thomas."

With that, the two men disappeared from Kate's line of vision, walking back towards the cul-de-sac nearest their treehouse. For two minutes, she didn't move and barely breathed. All she could do was listen, strain her ears as much as she could to hear more voices or footsteps crushing on underbrush, but she heard nothing.

Using her palms flat against the ground, she pushed herself back into a crouch and attempted to waddle her way back into the house, but her path was blocked by Rick, who was crouching just inside the balcony door. She sat back on her haunches and studied his look of concern. Honestly, she didn't know what to make of it. The first humans they'd seen since the woman looking for baby food, only these humans were much more heavily armed.

"Maybe we should go after them." He whispered to her.

Kate's brow rose and her eyes flared wide for she had been thinking the exact opposite. "No, I don't think so. Didn't you see them? They had those huge guns."

"Maybe they have a camp."

"Maybe they're going to rob us and shoot us."

He frowned at her. "Maybe they're trustworthy."

She scoffed. Rationally, she knew it was possible the heavily armed men were doing so solely for their own protection and they would happily take a couple who could provide food and a significant amount of water into their fold. Yet, the cop in her told her that was not the most likely scenario. Unfortunately, the other scenario ended with them being beaten and possibly severely injured. At the very least that scenario involved their treehouse being taken from them along with all of their supplies. That was not something she was willing to risk. "Says the man who was robbed of all his belongings twice. We don't know who we can trust, Rick. If they're part of a group, we don't know how large it is and there are only two of us with only one gun."

He pressed his lips together, clearly considering, before saying, "You trusted me."

"I…that's different."

"Why?"

"For a bunch of reasons," Kate said, the foremost of which being that he was one person and she was one person—a person who was also armed. In her mind, it was all about odds. Back when she first met Rick, she knew the odds were in her favor if they ever had an altercation due to her weapon. With another group, the odds were decidedly opposite.

"Such as…?"

Despite his curiosity, Kate shook her head and pushed herself off the ground, stepping over his legs to reenter the treehouse. "It doesn't matter."

"No, I want to know why. Why did you let me in, Kate? Why did you let me stay?"

Kate felt an odd tingling sensation at the back of her neck and skimmed her fingertips across it delicately. Though two months had passed, if she closed her eyes she could still see him kneeling in the clearing, hear the pleading tone of his voice and feel the sick feeling in her gut that it had given her. "I heard you scream when those two zombies started to attack you. I went out on the balcony and I watched you fall to your knees and pray for it to be over… I knew _exactly_ how that felt because that was me before I found this place." She shook her head as she looked over at him, taking notice of how curiously he was gazing at her. It had been a dark time for her, for certain. She had never gotten to the point where she fell to her knees and begged for it to be over, but she had spent many hours particularly at night wondering how much longer it could go on, how much more she could take.

"Back then I wasn't sure if I would make it another day, another week. Then, I found this place and things became a little easier. I wanted to give someone else that chance to take a break, to reset, to realize that things were bad, but not as bad as they thought they were. I wanted to give you that chance and then once we met I..."

Her voice drifted off and she shook her head, taking a step closer to him. This was it, the moment she wasn't going to waste. In her past life, she never would have dared confessed such intimate thoughts, but now, knowing that it could all be over in an instant, the confession felt natural and not scary at all.  
"As it all fell apart, after I left the city and got separated from my group I thought I'd just be going through the motions, trying to survive. I thought I would never have anything to look forward to again. I'd exist only to find water, food, and shelter. Stay alive somehow, but never really living. But then I met you and these past two months have been different. That's why we need to stick together and stay safe, because if something were to happen to you I...couldn't because I..."

Kate's emotional stammering was cut off by Rick striding forward, sliding his hands beneath her jaw, and pulling her mouth up to meet his. Her hands fell at his waist and she pulled herself into him, getting lost in the feeling of his lips against hers. When he pulled back, Rick brushed his thumbs against her cheek and gazed down at her with a fire that had her breath hitching in her chest.

"I love you."

A grin burst out onto her face immediately; she was so happy to hear he felt the same. Never in her entire life had she fallen in love with someone so quickly. Then again, their situation was entirely unique. "I love you too; I'm so glad you're here."

"Me too." With that, he kissed her again and made his intentions plain by sliding his hands down her jaw, over her back, and across her shorts so he could squeeze her ass. She grumbled out his name as a warning and he chuckled with a breathy, "What?"

She placed her hand flat against his chest and pushed him an inch further away. "We shouldn't…what if they come back?"

With a cheeky grin he said, "Then, they'll get a show."

She shook her head. Just in case they came back, she did not want to have herself in any compromising position; they needed to be ready. "Let's just sit here for a bit and listen, okay?"

Though he protested, Rick ultimately joined her on the couch where they sat quietly together, their arms around each other. "It's too bad we don't have cameras on the outside of this place. Or telescopes."

"But you couldn't see anything through the trees."

He clicked his tongue. "Don't ruin my ideas with your logic."

Chuckling slightly, Kate tucked her head against his shoulder and continued to listen to the sounds outside the treehouse.

* * *

"What are you thinking?" Rick asked as he skimmed his fingertips gently down the freckled skin on Kate's biceps. They lay together in bed two hours later after his insistent kissing of her neck had convinced her to abandon her post in the living room and join him beneath the sheets. For the prior ten minutes her dopey smile had been replaced with a displeasing frown.

She exhaled slowly and pressed herself back against his chest. "I'm wondering if they broke into the main house to search it, if they've found the chickens, any of our hidden supplies…"

He hummed. "They may have just been passing through."

"Maybe. If not, there will always be another group…"

"So," he began, cradling his head in his palm as he gazed down at her, "are you saying you think we should leave?"

She slid her body so she could lay fully on her back and meet his gaze more easily. "I'm thinking about the future." She was never not thinking about the future. Yes, the treehouse was an oasis for now, but was it long term? They had gone through all the houses in their cul-de-sac and the next closest one and mined them completely for food and water. Yes, the recent monsoon had solved their water problems and they had at least enough food for a month, but after that, what would they do?

She wasn't sure how far away the next neighborhood of houses was. Even if it was close by, the group they saw that day proved there were others in the area. Maybe those houses were stripped bare of supplies as well. Were that the case, they would need to keep venturing further and further away from the treehouse for supplies and then, did it make sense to still call it their home base? Besides, as nice as it was, the treehouse was far from the perfect hideaway.

"I know it's just the end of August now, but I was thinking ahead—to winter. It'll be getting cold before we know it and the first frost is not the time to make a plan. The treehouse is great for now—camouflaged and amazingly has a little bit of electricity, but as soon as the trees lose their leaves, it won't be hidden anymore. Plus, with this whole thing being wood how would we heat it? If we lit a fire in here, not only would we suffocate from the smoke, but we could easily burn the place down from underneath us."

"So you do think we should leave," he concluded.

Sad as it was, leaving seemed the only logical conclusion. "I think we have to, but I have no idea where we'd go other than south." In the south, the winters weren't as harsh and their likelihood of freezing to death seemed slim. Granted, if they went too far south—and the world was still a disaster in a year—they'd have the opposite problem as it would be too hot to survive in the summer.

Rick leaned down and pressed a kiss onto her head. "We don't have to decide right now. After everything that's happened in the past twenty-four hours I think we need to just take some time and breathe. Let's just take a few days, okay? We'll get organized, have a plan and maybe just take some time to pretend we're on a really weird vacation."

She almost laughed. "Really weird vacation?"

"Yeah." He grinned. "I'd like a day or so to pretend the whole world isn't different. Our little oasis has sheltered us from that. Plus, you know," he paused to skim his hand beneath the sheet and cup one of her breast, "this is fun and new so we should keep doing it."

She laughed deeply as she flipped over onto her side and threw one of her legs over his hip, using her heel against the back of his leg to draw him a bit closer. "Yeah well I think I know a place we can get some leather straps and a ball gag if you're interested."

He cringed. "I'm...not..." he said, his tone indicating a small amount of concern mixed with fear.

She laughed and shook her head. Bondage was certainly not one of her interests in the bedroom—though she had not been entirely opposed to using her police cuffs for some fun on rare occasion. "Me neither."

Rick appeared relieved. "Oh good. Plus using other people's sex toys is gross."

Her grimace matched his. "Agreed."

He brushed some hair back from her face and cradled the back of her neck with his hand. "So we're taking some time…?"

As much as the A-type personality in her wanted to jump out of bed and start packing that moment, she knew Rick had a point. So much had happened in the prior twenty-four hours it would be ill-advised to begin making hasty decisions at that moment. Assuming when they went exploring they did not find the main house overtaken by a group of potential foes, she did think a short respite would be good for all of them, but as soon as they had a plan, they needed to put it in action. "A week?"

He agreed with a nod. "A week." Then he leaned down and kissed her before whispering in her ear, "It's going to be amazing."


	9. Chapter 9

**NINE**

Standing with her legs resting against the balcony railing, Kate cupped her opposite elbows with her hands and hugged her arms tightly to her body. She gazed down at a squirrel skittering over the forest floor and watched as it perched atop a rock and wrapped its tail around its body. A moment later, the wind kicked up, the squirrels tail fluttered, and it jumped down and ran off behind some trees out of her view. With a sigh, Kate tilted forward and leaned more heavily against the railing.

Though it was difficult to believe, that night, her one hundred and nineteenth night in the treehouse, would be her last. Were she leaving the treetop home to return to her apartment back in the city, Kate doubted she would be sad about the departure; however, given that their future came with so many unknowns, not to mention no small amount of danger, the prospect of leaving their safe haven weighed heavily on her heart.

Kate remembered her arrival nearly four months earlier quite well. She'd been on high alert as she had been for weeks, ever since separating from Esposito. She'd been sleeping very little, but trying to stay as vigilant as she could, a task made exponentially more difficult by a lack of coffee or other caffeinated substances. She felt exhaustion through every inch of herself and knew she'd soon burn out from constantly using up all her adrenaline reserves since she sprang into action at every small noise or hint of movement.

At that point in time she'd had two bags with her: one a cross-body, messenger bag style purse, and the other a more heavy-duty backpack. Both were sufficiently stocked with goods. In fact, she had even left some of her haul behind for the next unfortunate traveler. She carried with her all she felt comfortable with; she did not want to be too bogged down and unable to fight or flee if necessary.

Despite her comfortable level of supplies, Kate was continually looking for a new reserve or, more importantly, a safe, easily securable area she could stay for a day or two and take a break. As she wandered through the brush that day, she'd favored a safe haven over a jug of water quite heavily. Then, as if for once fate was working in her favor, she'd spotted the rope ladder and thus the treehouse.

When she'd climbed up inside and discovered just how elaborate it was, she had been initially afraid it was a trap. How could such a perfect hideout exist? Furniture, a bed, electricity! Surely, it was all a mirage somehow. Yet, it was quite real and quite safe, as she discovered after thoroughly searching the area.

In hindsight, Kate had not realized at the time quite how drained and exhausted she really was. As her profession regularly required her to operate in high-stakes situation while on reduced sleep, she knew she could have continued on for another week, perhaps two, but beyond that the weariness surely would have taken a toll if in no other way than to cause her to make a serious—and possibly deadly—mistake in judgement.

The treehouse provided a respite and an opportunity to step back and appreciate life again. She could not exactly say she _enjoyed_ life before Rick's arrival, but she certainly was content enough. The arrival of the writer, however, changed all of that.

While Kate certainly appreciated the treehouse's lifesaving qualities, she found herself reluctant to leave not because of its safety and security, but for nostalgic reasons. The treehouse was the reason she met Rick. The treehouse was the place she fell in love with Rick. The treehouse had given them each other and while they would remain together after leaving it, exiting the place they'd shared together came with a certain amount of sadness.

Kate felt a pair of hands grip her hips and then slide across her belly as a figure hugged her from behind. Lips pressed against the side of her neck and she hummed out an acknowledgement of his presence. As he squeezed her a little bit tighter she spun around in his embrace and buried her face against his chest. Despite the day having temperatures in the nineties she didn't mind snuggling against Rick; it would always feel like home.

He dropped a kiss into her head and asked, "Ready to watch our last sunset from the treehouse?"

"Not really."

He skimmed his fingers down her back and up again. "We could always postpone. Stay another week or two."

She wanted to stay yes and easily could have; the words were perched at the edge of her tongue, but she wouldn't let them out. As much as she wanted to spend another few days living in their now clothing-optional abode, she knew doing so would merely be postponing the inevitable. They had to move; they had to find suitable shelter for winter—on that point they had no choice and she knew it would be best if they stuck to the plan they'd already committed to.

"We shouldn't. Hard as it will be, we need to leave."

"Hard? Nah!" He insisted. HIs tone turned casual as he suggested an alternative term: "An adventure!"

She smiled into his chest. Left to her own thought she probably would not have come up with such an optimistic term, but she was glad her companion could take on that role for her.

Five days earlier—the day after their almost discovery by the weapon-toting strangers—they emerged from their treehouse to do some cautious reconnaissance. After observing the main house from the tree line, they ventured closer to discover two key things. First: the two men Kate saw or the group they were traveling with had broken into the home and ransacked it quite thoroughly. Of course, there was nothing of value for them to find there as Rick and Kate had stripped it and stored their haul elsewhere, but it was painfully apparent how comprehensively they had searched. Second: the group had, thankfully, vacated the area and did not appear to be returning.

Knowing just how close they had come to being discovered, their decision to leave the treehouse behind had been solidified for Kate. Yes, they could run into a group like the one that caused their close call anywhere on the road, but their treehouse was no longer as isolated and secluded as they'd thought either. That afternoon, after checking on the chickens and discovering Hannah and Shelby had stuck around but Clara was still nowhere to be seen, Kate and Rick returned to the treehouse to make a plan.

Rick informed Kate that after her the two ladies in his life and joined up with another group, they spoke about a survivor's camp just west of Philadelphia. None of them had been there, but they talked about possibly going to see if such a safe haven really existed. If the camp was still there, Rick said, maybe it was the place for them to be. Still safe and secure but possibly with the aid of government provided supplies and shelter.

To this, Kate responded with a laugh. "I hope you're not seriously relying on the government to save us."

"Of course not," Rick replied. "They're probably the ones that started this whole mess. But if they're providing food, water and shelter…why shouldn't we participate?"

They continued to discuss it as Kate's secondary concern was that wintering in Philadelphia was probably only marginally better than wintering in New York, if it was better at all. The main purpose for their move was to get to a southern and thus warmer climate where they might not actually freeze to death during the coldest months of the year. While Rick agreed on this point, his logic was too sound for her to argue with.

"If this place doesn't seem like it'll be long-term we don't have to stay, but we have to pass Philadelphia on our way south anyway, so why not check it out?"

And thus their plan was set.

Knowing their travels would be far easier with a vehicle, the first thing Rick and Kate decided to do was search for a car that would be usable. Despite having sat around dormant for five to six months, they were able to get several of the vehicles remaining in the cul-de-sac started once keys were located. Rick suggested a black SUV just in case their trek required going off road to avoid abandoned cars or other debris blocking their path. While Kate understood his reasoning, she also knew that they had limited gasoline and SUVs were not always the most fuel efficient, so they compromised with an emerald green Subaru hatchback sitting in the garage of the house with the chickens.

With their car chosen and all the gas siphoned out of the remaining vehicles and stored in the three gas cans they found, their transportation was secured, which meant they needed to begin assessing their food, water and supply needs. If they were able to find the Philadelphia safe haven then they would only need to bring a few days of supplies with them, but considering how big of an area "west of Philadelphia" encompassed and what little direction they had to go on, Kate feared they would ultimately not discover the safe place—or find it was no longer secure—and thus need to travel further, so she recommended packing up nearly everything they had—just in case.

One of the first things Kate created when she decided to make the treehouse her semi-permanent new home was off-site supply storage areas just in case her treehouse was ever invaded by unwelcomed people or she needed to vacate for some other reasons. She had three storage areas around the cul-de-sac which she and Rick emptied as they were no longer needed. They did, however, agree to leave a small amount of food behind in the treehouse should anyone else need to seek refuge there.

Standing on the balcony with Rick's arms wrapped tightly around her, Kate knew they were making the right decision, but as was often the case with reality: the right decision was not the easy one. As the sun began to disappear over the horizon, she stood on her toes, kissed him, and then grabbed his hand to lead him to the bedroom, where they would spend what she hoped was not their last peaceful night together.

* * *

"Well, I think that's everything." Rick concluded as he slammed shut the back door to the Subaru. They had water, food, all their medical supplies, and one screaming feline pacing back and forth in the dog crate they'd found for him.

They had driven the car as close to the treehouse as they could get it to make their packing as easy as possible, but the edge of main house yard was as close as was feasible due to the density of the trees. They had still had to haul their goods several hundred yards, but it was better than nothing. Rick walked towards his companion standing midway between the car and their tree sanctuary, her teeth grazing over her bottom lip, a large wrinkle in her brow.

Rick stopped beside her and pressed his lips to her forehead. She had been atypically quiet so far that morning and he imagined it was due to her confliction on leaving their aboveground space. He understood, he really did, but with her at his side he wasn't concerned about their next adventure; he looked forward to it. Skimming his hand up and down her back he asked softly, "You okay?"

She nodded and looked once more back over her shoulder. "Yeah, I think so I just… for the first time since everything started, I'm afraid."

The hairs on the back of Rick's neck prickled from her tone of genuine concern. He did not imagine that this woman, a trained cop who had regaled him with many a tale of life-or-death situations over their time together, spooked easily. He found her statement somewhat surprising because even he was not all that concerned with their situation. "There's no need for that, Kate. We'll be together this whole time," he said with a reassuring smile.

She turned back to him, her eyes deep pools of worry. "But…I have something to lose now."

Ah, well, there was that. He brought his hands up to cradle her face and gave her a long, sweet kiss. Seeing as he had lost two very important things in the past, her concern made perfect sense to him, but her near death experience had taught him that in that world they could not dwell too much on the 'what if.' They simply had to live day by day the best they could.

"We're going to be fine, Kate. Even if we don't find this place in Philly we'll find our next treehouse somewhere."

She laughed. "I think this treehouse might be one in a million."

He gave a conceding nod. "Fair enough, but there are other shelters we can find; ones we can secure. We're going to be okay."

She shut her eyes, sucked in a deep breath, and then pushed it out slowly as she looked up at him once more. "I might need you to tell me that a few more times."

"I'll tell you as many times as you need." Then, grabbing her hand he asked, "Ready?"

"Ready." She echoed.

* * *

"Dear god, you have to let him out of that cage if it'll stop that racket." Rick grunted from his positon behind the wheel. For the prior twenty-five minutes Tux had been screaming at the absolute top of his lungs with very little break. Rick tried to ignore it, but the cat was just so damned loud! He honestly did not understand how the cat wasn't getting hoarse.

Kate reached her arm towards the back seat and hesitated. "But he could get under the pedals and cause an accident."

"Risk it." Rick concluded.

The topic of whether or not to take or leave Tux on their trip had been a heavily debated one over the prior few days. On one hand, traveling with a cat was completely and entirely impractical. On top of that, they were running low on his food and cat litter. Due to these reasons, Rick recommended they leave the feline behind. Not in the treehouse, of course, but to just let him go in the forest and hope for the best.

Kate, who clearly had more of an emotional attachment to the pet than he did, disagreed. She feared doing as he suggested was sentencing Tux to death as he was an indoor cat who surely was not used to hunting for his own food. She understood the impracticality of traveling with the cat and accepted the fact that it was possible the safe haven would now allow pets assuming they even found it, but in the end she said she couldn't live with herself if they didn't at least try to bring him along, so Rick had agreed.

A minute after his request, the howling ceased and a few seconds after that a black and white feline appeared on the dashboard just in front of the steering wheel and Rick was forced to slam on the breaks due to his line vision being completely obstructed. "No! C'mon! What are you doing?"

Kate merely laughed. "You told me to let him out."

"But this isn't what I wanted!" Rick grumbled.

"Apparently you can't have it both ways."

Signing, Rick put the car in "park" and turned to his companion. "Then we'll let him sit there for a few minutes while we enjoy the silence and check the map."

Rick had actually laughed when Kate proudly presented the Pennsylvania/New Jersey map she'd discovered in the glove box of one of the cars from which they syphoned gas. How long had it been since he'd used a paper map while traveling and not a map on the internet or his smartphone? Granted, as a New Yorker he did not often have a need for any sort of large area map owing to the fact that he did very little driving. The most frequently place he traveled to by car was to his own beach house, which he did not need directions for.

Though his initial reaction was to laugh, Rick was actually glad for the maps. As it turned out, his mental geography was actually quite poor. When thinking about Philadelphia in respect to New York he actually thought it was much further south and west than it actually was. Granted, the point at which they were reviewing the maps had been several days earlier while sitting in the treehouse and at that time they were not certain where exactly they were in New Jersey, which Kate immediately decided that was the first thing they needed to work on.

As their Subaru set off on the neighborhood streets they began reading signs hoping for any major landmark they could find on the map. Rick was actually glad to see her sense of geography wasn't much better than his, because when they were able to determine their location, she commented it was significantly more towards the west than she originally thought.

The cul-de-sac turned out to be closest to Hackettstown, New Jersey, which conveniently was almost directly north of Philadelphia by approximately eighty miles. Rick's initial response was to say, "Perfect! We'll be there in two hours or less," but Kate had responded with skepticism. They had only been driving for ten minutes and had to reroute twice because of blocked roadways, which did not bode well for their journey. Rick told her she was being too negative. As it turned out: she wasn't.

While traveling southward, they found themselves on a very country-type road lined with farms and not too many houses. This initially seemed to be to their advantage because there were no stalled or abandoned cars in their way either. Then, they came upon a herd of cattle that had evidently escaped their fencing and were standing in the middle of the road. Rick began to honk his horn in an attempt to encourage the bovine roadblock to dissipate, but Kate stopped him, fearing they would attract zombies or, worse, other humans.

Rick turned the car around and doubled back to the prior cross street, made a turn and continued on his way only to come upon a group of wandering zombies. There were about a dozen of them shuffling their way down the street, bumping into the few cars abandoned along the side of the road. He slowed down and hoped to creep through them, but evidently they were attracted by either the sound or movement of the vehicle. The mob began pounding on the car windows and clawing at the doors, which was frightening however as they knew the mob posed no threat, Rick and Kate were able to slowly and steadily pass their way through.

"Okay so—really?" Rick groaned when Tux hopped off the dash and directly on to the part of the map he was looking at. Kate scooped him up and pulled him into her lap so she could scratch his ears and Rick could examine the map in peace. "Okay, I'm pretty sure we're still going in the right direction. We should be able to confirm that in about five or six minutes when we cross over 78."

"Sounds good. I will try to keep Tux off the dash."

Rick gazed at her and winked. "Key word being 'try.'"

She nodded. "I make no promises."

As predicted, five minutes later the bridge for Interstate 78 came in to view. Rick slowed down the vehicle as it was obvious there were several abandoned cars lining the road. He had to weave a bit between the lanes, but it appeared their car would be able to fit across. Keeping the speedometer below ten miles an hour, Rick moved the car forward while Kate gazed out at the road below with no small amount of amazement.

The main artery below them was positively littered with abandoned vehicles. Most of the traffic appeared to be on the westbound side, which made sense if people were using the road to escape the more heavily populated Manhattan and northern New Jersey areas, but there were still a significant amount of vehicles in all four lanes. Had it been eight months ago, before society began to crumble, the scene might have made sense at rush hour or during a busy pre-holiday travel time, but now it was simply eerie.

"Do you think," Rick began, stopping their car a hundred feet from the end of the bridge, "the people are still down in their cars?"

"Dunno." Kate replied. "It's kind of hard to see from up here, but I'd imagine some might be."

From his vantage point, Rick could see movement down on the road. From its slow, stumbling progression, he assumed there were zombies, but there weren't many; perhaps a dozen or so on each side of the concrete barrier dividing east from westbound. The writer inside him began to compile a scenario that might explain what he was seeing.

Due to the excess and flood of people, traffic had inevitably backed up on the highway, as it often did. Perhaps there was an accident further down the road they couldn't see. Perhaps an exit was closed. Perhaps it was just a product of volume. Whatever happened, the snarl went on for hours on end. Cars started to run out of gas. People became tired, hungry, restless. Ultimately, they had to start abandoning their vehicles and progressing on foot as it was the only way out. Once enough people did this, no more cars could pass though, thus they ended up with the classic post-apocalyptic highway scene.

"Let's just keep going, okay?" Kate suggested once they'd been idle for several minutes.

Rick nodded in agreement and, without thinking, reached down to turn on the car's air conditioning due to the sweltering atmosphere. Almost the moment his finger touched the button, he felt a smack on his fingertips and whined, "Hey!"

"AC wastes gas." Kate reminded him.

"Two minutes—you can even time it," he said before pressing the AC ON button and waiting for the sweet relief of the cool air to hit his face.

It had been ridiculous—upon entering the car he had forgotten that the vehicle came equipped with a select amount of things they'd been going without due to the lack of electricity so the blast of cold air had almost shocked him. Subsequently, he was amazed at just how accustomed to their stone-age-style world he'd become. In addition to brief times of respite from the heat, Kate and Rick tried the radio, hoping that maybe there would be someone broadcasting a message of aid or assistance, but after going through every FM and AM station available, they disappointingly discovered nothing but static. On the bright side, they were able to listen to the Bruce Springsteen album left in the car, which was certainly better than silence.

At almost exactly the one hundred and twenty second mark, Kate reached over and turned the air conditioning off again. Rick grumbled, but after nearly three months of sweltering temperatures he would still take two minutes of air conditioning over none at all.

"On the bright side," he said, turning up The Boss's music again, "Only sixty-five more miles to go."

Kate let out a breathy laugh. "Great."

* * *

"Oh god not this again," Rick grumbled as they rounded a corner only to find the road completely blocked by a fallen tree.

The previous forty minutes of their trek had not gone well. After coming across a traffic circle so snarled with abandoned trucks and cars there was no way they could get through they had to double back twice to avoid similar situations, leaving Rick to curse the entire notion of traffic circles for a good ten minutes.

Frustrated, they'd veered off the main road in favor of more neighborhood-like ones in hopes of finding a smooth pass. Their plan worked and they hadn't been blocked, but they also had no real concept of where they were due to the smaller roads not appearing on their map. Ultimately, they had to go back to the main road and found it thankfully clear until their large oak obstruction appeared.

Grumbling again, Rick put the car in park. "Let's look at the map before we double back this time. Maybe we can find a better way…"

While he smoothed the map across the steering wheel and traced a path with his finger, Kate gazed absentmindedly at the tree before them. Her mind immediately went back to the storm during which she'd been attacked by the zombie, thinking perhaps the heavy winds had been its demise, but as her eyes grazed back and forth across the tree, she came to a sick realization and her stomach flipped in her gut.

"Rick, oh my god, back up."

Barely paying attention he asked, "What?"

"Rick! The car! Back up!"

He looked over at her, his brow wrinkled. "What? Why?"

She pointed towards their left. "The tree roots—they're not still attached to the end of the tree. It had a clean cut. This is a trap."

"What? A trap? What are you…"

But the words died out in Rick's lips as two men with shotguns appeared in front of the green Subaru, one gun trained on each of the vehicles occupants.

As his heart sunk deep into his belly, Rick could think of only one response. "Shit."

* * *

 _A/N: A cliffhanger and you guys don't get an update until NEXT saturday because i'm on vacation! Let the speculation begin :)_


	10. Chapter 10

**TEN**

"So…" Rick began softly, his heart hammering against his rib cage as his eyes darted between the armed men. "How do you suppose we handle this one?"

"Well," she said softly, clearly speaking out of one corner of her mouth to limit lip movement, "interrogation was more my strong suit, so maybe you should try to talk our way out of this. Seems like something you might be good at."

While the writer was well versed in schmoozing literary execs, publishers, editors, and even lawyers, he feared gun-wielding thugs were a different ballgame all together. "I'll give it a shot." With that, Rick pressed the button on the car door to lower the driver's window. He cleared his throat, plastered his best "Richard Castle, famous writer" smile on his face and called out, "Good afternoon, gentlemen! Or is it morning? Damn apocalypse—I never seem to know the time." He finished with a laugh, hoping to keep things light—and hoping they wouldn't get close enough to see the sweat pouring off his brow.

The man directly in front of him, who was dressed in an olive green t-shirt and khaki cargo pants lowered his weapon and approached the driver's side window. "Good afternoon yourself." He spoke to them in a surprisingly polite tone given the near hostage situation. "Why don't you go ahead and roll down the passenger window and then shut off the engine."

Wanting to keep the situation as calm as possible, Rick did as he was asked. Once the key was pulled out of the ignition he asked, "Is there something we can help you with? My girlfriend and I were just on our way south trying to find someplace safe."

"That so?" the green shirt stranger said, tightening his grip on his weapon. "Then I suppose it's unfortunate that you ran into us." At the end of his statement, he whistled and Rick saw using the rearview mirror that at least a dozen gun-toting men had emerged from hiding spots along the roadside and were now surrounding their vehicle; so much for a peaceful resolution.

The green shirt man crouched down so he could better view in the car as he asked them, "You folks have any weapons with you?"

Thinking it was best to be honest with those who were armed, he admitted, "Ah yes. We both have knives and she has a gun."

The green shirt man smirked. "Not man enough to carry one yourself?"

Rick gave him a look; he did not wish to have insults thrown at him by a man holding a gun. "She's a cop."

"Yeah?" Green shirt asked, mildly intrigued. "Where at, sweetie?"

Rick sucked in his breath, certain Kate would not appreciate being called "sweetie" by a stranger, let alone one holding them at gunpoint, but she answered simply with, "NYPD."

Green-shirt chuckled. "Then I guess it's good we're not in New York. Get out of the car—slowly."

"Now hold on a second, I think we can just-"

"I said," Green-shirt man demanded as he held the muzzle of his weapon up to the open car window, "get out of the car."

Rick held his hands up, palms facing out and slowly rotated his body towards the car door. "Okay, okay, we're-"

"Hold on." Kate interrupted his surrender. "We have a cat in here. Let me just-"

"I don't give a shit about your cat, lady. Get out of the car, or I'll shoot your boyfriend."

As green-shirt man had made himself quite plain, Rick gave Kate a sympathetic look before dropping his eyes to Tux, who cowered on the floor by Kate's feet. He said a silent apology to the feline before popping the door handle and stepping out of the car. Immediately, he was roughly grabbed by his right shoulder and forced around so that his hands were against the car roof and he could be frisked, police-style.

Standing there as strange men relieved him of his knife and rummaged through his pockets, Rick mentally flashed back to all the other interactions he'd had with strangers along the road. For as long as he lived—however much longer that ended up being—he would never understand why in times of stress and strife some people's default reaction was cruelty instead of kindness. Then again, maybe that was just the kind of person he was.

Even at his darkest hour, he never would have considered armed robbery as an option to obtain what he needed. When Kate had found him that day in the forest, he was certainly at his lowest point as far as starvation and thirst went, though he would never have even thought about stealing from her. Had she not offered, he might have asked—okay, begged—for water she had to spare, but taking it by force never entered his mind.

He remembered the first time his possessions had been taken from him. At that point, he and his family were just days out of the city, so when a group of men approached him his initial response had been to protect the two women, but also keep things light just in case the men had an innocent motive. Of course, they turned out to be no better than school yard bullies: punching him in the face, causing his daughter and mother to scream, relieving him of his guns, and then continuing on their way. All things considered, that had been a minor incident.

The second time he'd been robbed, the one that had only happened a little more than two months earlier, was significantly less pleasant. He'd been punched, kicked, and spat on; called every insult the attacker's simple mind could come up with, many of which were simply involved curses for adjectives. Perhaps unwisely he'd put up more of a fight, but times were tough. It had taken him no small amount of scavenging to find what he had so he offered to split it with them, but that had not gone over well.

Standing against the car with his palms flat on the roof and his legs spread, gazing over at Kate as her position mirrored his, Rick wasn't sure what to think. Did they roll over and allow the thugs to take anything and everything they wanted in hopes they'd be able to escape with their lives? Or did they attempt to make a deal to keep some if not all of their haul. Unfortunately, Rick could not see any scenario in which they'd be able to keep the car.

Once frisked, Rick was led towards the back end of the vehicle and half expected his hands to be tied behind his back. They weren't, though his left bicep was held almost painfully tight in the grip of a man nearly twice his size. Rick briefly wondered how the man managed to find enough food in the apocalypse to maintain such bulk, but dismissed the thought from his mind when Kate was walked into a similar position just a few feet from him.

Green-shirt man retrieved the car keys from the center console and popped the rear hatch of the Subaru. Observing their boxes and crates of water and food, he grinned. "Looks like you folks were packed for a journey."

"Yes, and we'd like to keep going if it's all the same to you," Rick said.

The man hummed and rubbed his fingertips over his beard-covered chin. "Unfortunately, we can't allow that. There's a tax to use this road, you see." Finished with his assessment, the green-shirt man slammed down the back hatch to the vehicle, causing a loud noise and the shaking of the car. Unfortunately, this appeared to be too much for Tux to take, because he bolted from the passenger side of the vehicle and took off sprinting towards some road-side brush.

"Tux!" Kate cried out, moving quickly forward only to be roughly grabbed around the waist and hauled back into submission.

"Hey stop!" Rick called out automatically, fury building inside him at the mere thought of her being injured. "Don't treat her like that!"

"I'm fine Rick." She mumbled her eyes trained sadly on the direction in which the cat fled.

The green-shirt man stepped up to Rick and shook his head. "Always a shame when the hot ones turn out to be crazy, right?"

Rick narrowed his eyes at the man. "All right, enough. Let's just finish this. You can keep the car and the bulk of the supplies; just let us take what we can carry and we'll be on our way."

Green-shirt threw back his head and let out a bark of laughter so violent Rick was actually a bit startled. Shaking his head, green-shirt dipped his left thumb into his belt buckle while brushing at his cheek with his right hand. "Shoot…you're a funny guy. Did you used to be a comedian, funny guy?"

"No."

"Well, you should think about it in the future."

Now thoroughly unamused, Rick merely blinked. "Which part of what I said was so funny?"

"Oh, all of it," green-shirt said. "But you know I appreciate your attempts at negotiating, I really do, so I'll tell ya what I'm going to do: I'm going to let you and your girlfriend go without any bullet holes. How's that for a settlement?"

So much for a mutually beneficial negotiation; it was quickly becoming obvious they were not going to win anything from these thugs. If their only "win" was to escape without injury, they'd simply have to take it. With a sigh, Rick rounded his shoulders. Submission to the terms was poised on his lips, when he heard Kate call out, "We get one bottle of water each."

Green-shirt man brought his hand up to paw at his chin as though he were deep in contemplation, but only for a second before replying swiftly, "No."

"One bottle of water total." Kate countered.

Green-shirt's chin dropped to his chest and shook his head. With a heavy sigh, he gestured towards Kate with his weapon and asked Rick, "Can't you get a handle on her?"

The writer almost laughed. Though they had been an official couple for only one week, and known each other barely two months, he very much doubted Kate was the type of woman who could be "handled" by any man. Instead, he pointed out cautiously, "Well, it is a very hot day."

Green-shirt sighed exasperatedly and trudged over to the vehicle. Ducking into the driver's side door, he returned with the water bottle that had been in the central cup holder. He held it up and shook his head. "I really am too kind." With that, he unscrewed the cap and began pouring water onto the ground until the twenty ounce bottle was approximately half full. Then, he screwed the cap back on and tossed the bottle to Rick.

"Thanks." Rick replied with no small amount of sarcasm.

Once he and Kate had been released from the grips of green-shirt's henchmen, they began silently walking towards the fallen tree. As Rick was ahead of Kate, he didn't realize she had stopped walking until he heard one of the man shout, "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Whipping around, he saw Kate leaning over by the passenger door, her arm extended inside the vehicle.

"I'm getting my bag."

"Lady," Green-shirt began, now sounding more annoyed than ever, "if I didn't let you take water, what the hell makes you think I'm going to let you take a bag?"

"It only has my tampons in it—or are you girls nearing the end of your cycle?"

Had the situation not been so dire, Rick might have laughed at the absurd expression that crossed the face of about half the thugs. Green-shirt, however, was not amused. He stalked over to Kate and reached down into the vehicle to pull out the black satchel that had been sitting at Kate's feet. Rick never thought to ask what was inside it, figuring it was just more supplies. He watched as green-shirt peered inside, grimaced, and then shoved the bag at Kate's chest before saying, "Now get the fuck out of here before I change my mind."

* * *

"Do you really have only tampons in that purse?" Rick asked as quietly as possible once they had traveled approximately a quarter mile from the fallen tree. During that five minute walk, neither of them spoke.

Kate grinned over at her companion. "Of course not; there are two protein bars tucked into the lining."

Rick's expression mirrored hers. "Smart girl."

Kate merely chuckled. Almost ever since the beginning of her time out in the zombie-filled world she had carried her tampon-hidden stash of supplies. Had she come along a group of female robbers, she may have had an issue, but she was banking on the stereotypical, yet valid squeamishness of men when it came to women's feminine hygiene products. Green-shirt man had confirmed her theory when he merely gazed into the bag instead of rifling through it.

"Guess we need to come up with a plan for more supplies," she said as they continued along the main road. "I'd imagine these houses have been pretty picked through, but maybe we can veer off into a neighborhood and find some water?"

Rick slowed his walk until he came to a full stop. When Kate realized he wasn't following, she turned and saw he had a sad expression. "I'm sorry, Kate."

"Why?"

"I messed up. I was driving. I should have turned around and-"

"Hey. No." Kate stepped up and reached out her hand to cradle his face. "It's not your fault. If I'd been driving I would have done the same thing. It's just…something that happened."

He nodded, though reluctantly. "Still, I'm sorry…about Tux, too."

"Oh." Kate said, feeling her heart sink a little more. She tried not to think of him and how long he would last—rather, how long he _wouldn't_ last—out on his own. At least she could be satisfied with the fact that they did the best they could for him. "Thanks."

Rick leaned down and kissed her before taking her hand as they continued down the road. "I was thinking: we drove for about ninety minutes, right? We had to double back a few times, which slowed us down, but I think that sign we passed at the traffic circle said Flemington, which was about halfway to Philadelphia. That means we have about forty or so miles to go. And that's if the refuge is in Philadelphia proper, which I'm guessing it isn't given what a shit-show New York turned into."

"Right."

"It's easily past noon, which gives us what? Six hours of daylight. Even if we walk that whole time at a consistent pace without stopping at all to look for food and water, we still won't make it today."

"Agreed." Kate sighed. The writer was one hundred percent correct. With the loss of not just their supplies but their vehicle, the plan for their journey would be altered significantly.

"Maybe what we should look for in one of these houses is a working watch. Then, we can time ourselves. We'll walk for four hours and then we'll have to start looking for a safe place to spend the night."

"Sounds like a plan."

"See Kate," he said, giving her hand another squeeze, "I told you this would be and adventure."

* * *

"So…I was thinkin'—have you ever seen a zombie animal?"

Kate glanced over to her companion as they continued to trudge down the center of a side-street quickly becoming overgrown with brush now that there was no more regular road maintenance. "A what?"

"A zombie animal." He repeated. "Dog, cat, rabbit, squirrel… because I've never seen one."

Kate considered this for a moment before shaking her head. "I guess I've never seen one either, but that makes sense. They clearly don't get the flu or colds from us, so they're immune to this too."

"Oh!" He proclaimed excitedly, hopping in front of her. "Maybe that's it! That's the cure! We splice human DNA with animal DNA—I just hope they pick a really cool animal. Like—oh!—a tiger; that would be cool!"

Kate let out a light laugh and shook her head as they continued to walk. "Yeah, because splicing DNA sounds really plausible given our desperate lack of electricity."

He clicked his tongue and made a flippant gesture with his hand. "Please. The labs that have the DNA splicing availability _clearly_ would have been prepared for something like this. They'd still have generators and everything they need to cure all this."

"Then why are we still living in the Stone Age?"

He grumbled and gave her a side-eye. "There you go again—messing up my story with your logic. Cures take time— _obviously_."

"Uh huh."

"Hey! Don't judge me. This is why you brought me alone, right?"

"For what? Your delusions of grandeur?" She responded. A defeated look crossed his face and she reached out and hugged his arm briefly. "I'm kidding, Rick. I really do appreciate your nauseating-at-times positivity."

He merely shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a glass-half-full kinda guy."

Kate merely smiled at him. Though he'd been in a darker place when they first met—perfectly understandable given everything that had happened—she was glad to see the bright, optimistic side to him that existed practically all the time. It was quite different than her default setting of serious, task-oriented focus, but that's what made him so fun to be around; he reminded her that without taking moments to be light and fun, the seriousness would crush her far more than she realized.

Could she have made the journey without Rick by her side? Of course, though her tendency to favor fight over flight and use snark more often than necessary probably would not have done her any favors had she run into the group of belonging-stealing thugs without her diplomatic partner. She could have made the journey, fought her way through zombies as needed and collected supplies, but she wouldn't have smiled, so what would have been the point?

"Kate. Look."

As she had been gazing towards the road, Kate raised her chin to see that Rick pointed straight ahead at an approaching duo of zombies. As they were moving quite slowly and one of them appeared to be missing an entire arm, she did not feel largely threatened. Still, they would need to take them out of they wanted to continue traveling safely down the road. Instinctually, Kate's hand went to her hip and when she realized her knife sheath was missing, she briefly panicked until she remembered she'd been relieved of it several hours earlier. Bastards.

"C'mon," Rick said, gently cupping her elbow with his hand. "I think we can make it to that building over there without them noticing."

"And if the building is full of them?" she mumbled back to him.

"We'll deal with it."

Running on tip-toes in order to make as little sound as possible, Kate and Rick veered off the road into a parking lot to find themselves staring up at what appeared to be a small, mom-and-pop grocery store. The glass from door had clearly been broken open, meaning the building did not offer anything in the way of long-term shelter and more than likely it had been thoroughly ransacked for supplies, but if it gave them a hideout until the zombies shuffled past, it was worth checking out.

"Be careful." Kate warned as they stepped through the vacant door frame. "They could be in any of the aisles."

"I know."

They crept through the rows of vacant shelves one by one. Other than some broken bottles and an entire row of practically untouched cleaning supplies, the store did not have much to offer insofar as viable goods; as Kate predicted, it had been heavily picked through.

"They didn't even leave as much as a matchstick." Rick commented as he picked up an empty display box of Snickers bars and tossed it back onto the shelf, annoyed. "Let's see if there's a back room."

"Careful, there could be-"

He held up a hand to silence her and said, "I know."

Rick walked to the back storage area door, which was shut, and rattled the handle before pressing his ear to the door and listening. He repeated the process twice before whipping the door open and stepping back out of the way. After ten seconds, nothing emerged from the room, so he entered with Kate at his heel. Not two steps in the room he proclaimed, "No way! Jackpot!"

"What?" Kate said, hurriedly walking around him to find his discovery. There, along the far wall of what appeared to be a storage area and employee break room combined, was a rather aged looking vending machine. Though it was dust-covered and long past its prime it was delightfully stocked with goodies.

Rick turned to his companion and grinned. "I never thought I'd be so happy to find stale potato chips."

She let out a breathy laugh. Yes, the food was a good discovery, but unfortunately there was no water or any other drinks in sight. At that point, having finished the meager liquid serving green-shirt man left them, the importance of water trumped that of food.

Kate scouted the area while Rick smashed in the vending machine's glass front with a chair and collected their treasures. In a mini fridge under a grotesquely under-cleaned microwave she found an unopened can of Mountain Dew, which while not ideal was better that nothing and also appeared to be the only thing to drink left in the building.

They shared a bag of popcorn before grabbing a few spare shelving rods to use as makeshift weapons before heading back out onto the road. Rick suggested they walk for another half hour before beginning to look for shelter for the night and Kate agreed.

* * *

Kate startled awake the following morning, not sure what had pulled her from slumber. She blinked and gazed around the interior of the vehicle in which she and Rick had settled. It was stifling hot and in the early morning hour the light had not yet filtered too far into the garage, so it was also quite dark, but she did not see an immediate threat.

The prior evening after wandering around until almost dusk they had yet to find a suitably safe place to rest their heads; that's when the settled on the garage. While there was no nice place to lie down on the garage floor, the back seat of the sedan left behind was roomy enough. Plus, it came with the added security of being a place where zombies definitely could not access them. True, if they somehow managed to get into the garage they could surround the car and that would be problematic, but they certainly would not wake up with their limbs being gnawed on.

After eating some pretzels and sharing a small bottle of apple juice they'd found, they settled down to rest with Kate volunteering to take the first watch. Rick lay across the back seat as much as he could considering his large frame and rested his head against her thigh. He fell quickly to sleep while Kate stayed up for several hours contemplating their new situation and where it fell on the scale from moderately concerning to completely dire.

Clearly, their first task the following day needed to be finding water or at the very least, any viable source of liquids to intake. With their shopping bag full of snack foods, they were okay insofar as foodstuffs, but if the following day was as warm as that one had been, liquid would be critical. Past that, their lack of direction concerned Kate. Yes, they were walking south towards Philadelphia, and the closer they got the more signs there would be, but as Rick pointed out, the center of the city hardly seemed the most likely place for the safe haven. Even if they knew exactly where it was they would struggle without a map, but going completely blind? It seemed like a nearly impossible task.

After three hours, Kate gently stroked the hair of her companion until he awoke and they switched positions. Kate struggled to relax enough to sleep, but with Rick's hand smoothing down her arm, she was soon lulled into rest. Judging by the fact that it was now at least partially light outside, Kate felt she had slept several hours, which, considering the situation, was better than expected.

Grumbling to herself at how cramped her back and neck felt, Kate pushed herself up only to find that Rick was not awake watching over them, but that he had fallen back asleep. His head rested on the back of the seat, his mouth hung open and he snored. "Rick!" she said sharply, poking his arm with her index finger. He startled.

"Wh-what's-what?"

"It's morning; you were asleep."

"Shit! Sorry!" He quickly sat up and craned his next to gaze around the exterior of the vehicle; Kate mirrored his movements. "Looks like we're good though. I mean, nothing got into the garage."

"Right. It's light out, though, so we should get moving."

Rick nodded in agreement before popping open the car door and sliding to the edge of the seat, stating he would be back in a minute. Kate remained in the car, picking up their plastic bag of supplies from beside her feet. In doing so, she felt the hair from her pony tail sticking to the back of her neck and grimace. Damn, she already missed the treehouse and all its amenities. Hopefully, by day's end she would be wearing clean clothes and sleeping someplace safe.

Just as she was gazing into the bag, mentally deciding whether or not she wanted salt and vinegar chips for breakfast or sour cream and onion, she heard, "Uhh, Kate?" and immediately felt her face flush. Rick's tone was not light or conversational, but terror filled.

The bag of food abandoned, Kate pushed herself to the car door and froze when she saw her boyfriend standing just inside the garage door, his arms up in a goal post stance, palms facing out. A foot from him stood a bearded, pony-tail sporting man holding a gun up, muzzle facing directly towards the eyes of her boyfriend. "Shit." Kate cursed under her breath. Not again!

"Well, good morning, Sunshine," the gun-wielding man said, though his tone was not at all pleasant. "Why don't you step out of there very slowly and come join your friend."

"I feel it's only fair to warn you," Kate said as she slid out of the vehicle and raised her hands cautiously, "we were already robbed yesterday."

The ponytailed man chuckled. "Then you two have some shit-ass luck."

"She's not kidding." Rick continued. "We have three bags of chips and some crackers. If that'll get you to put the gun down, you're welcome to them."

The man chuckled again and, most amazingly, lowered his weapon. "Now you folks seem like nice people so I think we can come to an agreement here. As for your chips, I'm not too interested in those."

"Then…what do you want?" Kate asked as Rick shot her a look that said, _don't ask questions you don't want to know the answers to_!

"To take you back to our camp."

Kate said nothing, as she assumed the camp to which he referred was not the safe haven they sought. The writer, however, couldn't resist. "And what kind of camp would that be?"

The man winked at them before raising his gun and using it to gesture them out of the garage. "You'll have to see for yourselves. Outside. Now."

With her arms still raised, Kate followed her boyfriend into the backyard of the Philadelphia suburban home they'd hunkered down in. There, three more heavily armed men awaited them. One stepped forward and pulled Kate against him, trapping her biceps in his vice-like grip. Another stepped forward to presumably do the same to Rick, except instead he produced a zip tie and bound the writer's hands together in front of him. Kate tried to catch Rick's eye, but could not due to the angle at which she was being held.

The ponytailed man exited the garage and paced a small area in front of his colleagues and new hostages. "Now, if you folks continue to be nice and not resist, there's no reason for you to be harmed."

"I'm getting a feeling that this camp isn't going to be a place for us to get some food, water, and a nice bed, is it?"

The ponytailed man chuckled at the writer. "Smart man. Of course, we have food and water, but it must be earned."

"Earned how?" Rick asked.

The man tucked his gun into his back pocket and walked over to Rick, patting his shoulder with a grin. "Well, a sturdy gentleman such as yourself would make a mighty fine laborer, don't you think? And, as for this pretty little thing," he said as he walked over to Kate and stroked a finger down her cheek; she turned away in disgust. "Well, I'm sure there are plenty of things she can do to earn her keep."

Kate fought the urge to vomit at his comment, though it appeared her boyfriend was reacting in a different manner.

He lunged forward, spitting, "Don't you touch her!" only to be yanked back into position a moment later.

"I suggest you settle down, son." The ponytailed man warned.

Rick glared at him with a fiery gaze that actually made Kate swallow hard. Rick was clearly in a mood to protect her, which while incredible noble and sweet of him, scared her for she did not know how negatively their new foes would react; the last thing she wanted was for him to get hurt—especially not while protecting her.

"Then don't even think about putting a hand on her again." The writer spat.

"What? Like this hand?" The man laughed and took his left hand, fingers splayed, and placed it atop Kate's head. She tried to shrink away from the touch, but the thugs behind her held her too tightly.

"I said don't you fucking touc-"

But Rick's words were stolen from his mouth when the butt of the ponytailed man's gun came in contact with his temple. The writer's body immediately crumbled and his captors allowed him to sink to the ground, where he landed with an unpleasant 'thud' in the grass.

"Rick!" Kate shrieked out, attempting to lunge towards him on instinct, but she remained too tightly restrained. "Rick! Rick!" She called out his name desperately, but he was out cold. Her eyes never left the welt on his temple as her hands were bound with a zip tie in a similar manner as his had been.

"Get her to the truck." Ponytail man commanded.

"What about the guy?"

"Leave him."

"NO! No! Stop! Rick! Rick!" Kate screamed and thrashed against her captors. She dug her heels in and bent her knees, but it was no use. One of the men merely hoisted her up and carried her struggling body towards the street. As Rick's face began to disappear from her view, panic clutched Kate's throat and she fought to keep from sobbing.

They were supposed to stay together; together they would be safe. That's what Rick had promised her when they left the treehouse—they would stay together the whole time. No, he wasn't leaving her by choice, but still they were being separated, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.

As the thugs shoved Kate into the back of a black pickup truck, she was not sure what terrified her the most: the fact that unconscious Rick lying in the middle of an unprotected yard could be subject to a zombie attack or the fact that it was entirely possible they would never be able to find one another again.

* * *

 _A/N: thank you for your patience during my week off from posting, though I don't imagine any of you are too much happier with me right now :) At least you only have to wait until Wednesday for the next chapter!_


	11. Chapter 11

**ELEVEN**

Sitting in the back seat of a pickup truck, her eyes blindfolded with what she hoped was a clean shirt and her hands bound together, Kate Beckett tried her best to remember her police training. Granted, while there were many lessons on hostage negotiations, dealing with individuals in highly volatile situations, and even talking jumpers off ledges, the section in the handbook about what to do if you're kidnapped was decidedly short. She was, however, familiar with the pamphlets and teachings they provided to school-aged children on what to do if they were in a kidnapping situation.

First and foremost on the list of tips for kidnapping victims was: be observant. As a detective, she was already quite observant, but unfortunately their post-apocalyptic world made normal observant skills quite difficult. For instance, she normally would have been listening for sounds like traffic or trains to give herself an indication of where she might be. However, there were no vehicles or trains, or even the hum of electricity; it was entirely possible their car was the only one on the road.

Another tip for a kidnapped victim put into a vehicle was to attempt to memorize turns and stops to, again, discern a final destination. In that case, it was generally beneficial to be familiar with the point of abduction, which Kate was not. Furthermore, she found it incredibly difficult to follow or construct a pattern in her mind due to the fact that their turns were frequent and their speed changed almost constantly. Kate could only assume this was due to the fact that the kidnappers, like she and Rick, had been encountering blocked roadways.

The part far worse than actually being restrained and blindfolded was the even if she had been able to trace her exact location and would have therefore been able to return to the garage she was taken from once she was able to escape, what would she be going back to? Rick surely would not still be there. She hoped he would continue on towards the Philadelphia safe haven, but feared he might come after her and try to rescue her. What would happen to him then? Would he wander around in circles until he, too, became a victim?

Shaking such thoughts from her mind, Kate sucked in a deep breath and tried her best to calm her heart rate and focus. She needed to think about survival. She needed to keep her head, pay attention, not fly off the handle or antagonize; that was the key to beating the odds stacked against her.

Though police training did not give too much background knowledge with regards to being kidnapped, her hostage training could come into play to provide some key knowledge. First, the longer she stayed a prisoner, the less her odds were of having a happy ending. Considering she really wanted that happy ending, she needed to try and escape at the first clear opportunity. Once she was away from them she would figure out how to get back to Rick, but she needed to take it one step at a time.

They drove for what Kate estimated to be a twenty or thirty minutes before Kate heard the vehicle's breaks squeal and the truck came to a full stop. Up until that point, her kidnappers had not said much of anything, and she could not help but wonder if that was somehow intentional; to keep her as in the dark (literally and figuratively) as possible. However, when the vehicle stopped, one man directed two others to get out. Kate did not hear the car doors close, but a moment later she heard the sounds of metal clanking against metal. It sounded as though a fence or a gate was being opened meaning the compound in which she was now an unwilling captive was secure. Not exactly surprising, but would potentially complicate a future escape.

Once the clanking of metal ceased, Kate felt the vehicle rock as the two men climbed back inside. Then, their doors slammed shut and the truck progressed forward. Sitting as tall as she could in her seat, Kate began straining her ears to hear every little thing that happened around her; she had no idea what small, seemingly insignificant moment might just help her escape in the future.

When the vehicle stopped once more, Kate heard all four doors open and felt someone grabbing onto her right elbow and pulling her towards the exit. She tried her best to slide along the seat, but ended up stumbling out as the man pulling her did so far too quickly. She landed hard against the pavement as she was unable to properly judge the distance from the truck door to the ground and stumbled, fighting to wince at a pain in her left shin.

"I thought you were on a supply run."

The male voice Kate heard was from a distance and clearly not from one of her group of captors.

"We were, but we found something even better." Kate identified this voice as the one from the ponytailed gunman who had ruined their peaceful morning.

"Her?" The first speaker was drawing closer. His tone did not sound shocked or annoyed, merely curious.

"Yeah. Think she'll make El Capitan happy?"

The first speaker, who now sounded close enough for Kate to reach out and touch, chuckled. "You think you can get on his good side by bringing him a piece of ass?"

"Can't hurt," the ponytailed man said. Kate could almost hear the smirk that must have been on his face and fought the urge to grimace.

From the moment the ponytailed man had stroked her face and mentioned there would be ways she could "earn her keep" Kate feared the very worst, and with one simple statement her fears had been confirmed. Sick as it was, she could not entirely say she was surprised. When the world degraded, so did propriety and social decorum and as an attractive woman she would, unfortunately, be no exception to such debauchery.

Kate sucked in a deep breath and steeled herself for the coming hours. She would play along, she would do her best not to antagonize or upset the kidnappers unnecessarily. She needed to give them a reason to treat her fairly and with respect; however, she would not allow herself to be assaulted or even to be put into a situation where she could be assaulted, which meant she needed to make every effort to outsmart them and obtain her freedom. Task number one: removing the blindfold, as it severely limited her ability to appropriately assess her surroundings.

"C'mon; let's go."

Kate felt herself grabbed roughly beneath the left armpit by a man whose voice she did not recognized. Trying to keep up the best she could, she was half dragged across ground she guessed to be pavement or, at the very least, very packed down gravel. It had a firm texture and was definitely not dirt or grass. After about fifteen steps she heard the metal creak of a door being opened.

Though her blindfold did not allow too much external light to filter in, Kate could tell immediately that the building she entered was poorly lit, at least in the entry-area. As she continued forward, she guessed they were now in a building with concrete floors and possibly even cinderblock walls. At the very least, the area was minimally filled because the interior echoed far more than a normal office building or home would have.

After taking a few turns around building corners and going through one more heavy metal door, Kate's captor came to a halt and Kate could hear the jingling of keys. Great, she thought, a prison cell. Perhaps they were in an actual prison; it would explain the concrete floors and walls.

Not a moment later Kate heard yet another metal door being opened and felt a hand placed in the center of her back to give her an unceremonious shove forward. She stumbled at the sudden force and then came to a stop, not knowing where she was. As though her captor read her mind, her blindfold was swiftly removed.

Kate blinked and looked around the area. As the room was very dark, she did not need her eyes to adjust to any sort of difference in light for more than a few moments. Glancing around, she determined she was not in a prison cell, but some sort of industrial boiler room; as evidence a metal furnace-looking object loomed silently in one corner. Turning back around, she saw a man around six-foot tall with heavily tattooed arms smirking at her.

"Guess you can just hang out in here for a while," he said to her. She held out her bound wrists in a silent plea for him to cut the zip ties but he merely shook his head. He took a step towards the exit, but she stopped him with, "Wait. May I have some water, please?"

He glanced briefly over his shoulder and said, "Maybe later—if you're good." With that, he kicked the metal door closed behind him; the slam as it contacted with the door frame made Kate shudder. Well, there certainly would be no escape from this room.

Sighing, Kate paced around the area she estimated to be a nine foot square box and assessed her situation. She was, most thankfully, uninjured and aside from the zip ties on her hands, unrestrained. The prior morning when she and Rick set out on their journey, they had both been well fed and watered. Given that she had a small amount of food and liquid the day before, she was in no way desperate for water. However, the boiler room was warm (though, she imagined, not as warm as it would have been had the boiler been on) and she was sweating. Soon, her need for water would become paramount. Before that time came, she hoped to earn some water by "being good" in ways that did not involve any level of degradation.

With a slight grunt of frustration, Kate pressed her back against a wall and sunk down into a crouching position. Alone and out of imminent danger, her thoughts drifted back to Rick. How hard had the ponytailed man hit him with the butt of the gun? How long had he been out? Surely, he would be awake by then—and preferably zombie-bite-free. Had he set out after her? Had he run into any more trouble?

Unfortunately, she could find out the answers to any of those questions. All she could do was wait and hope for the best for both him and herself.

* * *

Richard Castle awoke with his face pressed down into a chunk of grass and groaned. What had happened? Why was he on the ground? What was—shit! Zombies!

He pushed his palms against the ground and jumped up as quickly as he could despite the pounding in his left temple. He spun around on the spot, but found himself alone in the back yard. Quickly, he surveyed his hands, arms, legs and torso to find that, mercifully, he appeared to be bite free. Bite free, but alone.

 _Kate_.

Quickly, Rick rushed into the garage where they had spent the night, but could not say he was shocked to find it empty. He walked back out to the yard and followed the driveway to the street which was, again, empty. Shit.

Kate and their attackers were gone. Considering his less than conscious state, he felt it safe to assume that Kate had not voluntarily gone with them.

Shit.

Walking back in to the garage, he stood with his right hand covering his mouth and his left resting against the trunk of the car. The way he saw it, he had two options. His kneejerk reaction was to attempt to find Kate. Who knew what the gun-wielding ponytail man would do to her, but he could only assume it was nothing good. Even if she was perfectly safe, they were still separated, which was clearly a far from ideal situation. They needed to stick together; that's what they had promised each other before leaving the treehouse.

His initial plan was a good one—the one he wanted to act on—however it also seemed the most impractical. The ponytailed man's encampment could have been literally anywhere. Given how they were speaking, Rick could only assume they did not arrive on foot but by vehicle, thereby expanding the range they could travel. They could have taken Kate dozens of miles in any direction and he had absolutely nothing to go on and nowhere to begin looking.

Thus, he was forced to consider plan number two: continue towards the safe haven in Philadelphia based on the hope that whenever Kate was able to get herself out of the situation she was in, she, too, would travel there and they would be reunited. Once again, this solution was not ideal. Rick still had no idea where the safe haven was; nor did Kate. Even if he managed to make it there, there was no guarantee she would and vice versa.

More frustrated than ever, Rick began to pace the small garage space. He doubted their story was an atypical in the apocalyptic times. He had not been separated from his group, but more his group mutually came to the agreement to dissolve after their food and water ran out. Yet, others he had encountered along the way told tales of becoming separated. Even Kate spoke about being unable to find her NYPD partner after an attack, which sparked her decision to proceed alone.

Had it been any other situation, had it been any other person, Rick might have thrown in the towel and let the situation be what it was, but this wasn't an ordinary person. This wasn't a random traveler he'd met along the way and formed an alliance with solely for the factors of safety and practicality. This was the woman he loved and he was going to do whatever it took to find her again.

* * *

Lifting up his hands to shield his face, Rick blinked at the road ahead of him. Even with the sunglasses he'd picked up, the beating midday sun still made it difficult to see long distances. Then again, maybe it was just because he was hallucinating due to thirst. Eating that bag of salt and vinegar chips definitely had not been a wise decision.

Judging by the position on the sun in the sky, Rick guessed it to be early afternoon, which meant he had been wandering around for a little more than five hours. In that time he'd found nothing but abandoned cars, abandoned houses, and sticks and branches littering the road. There had been no signs of an encampment or any place a group of survivors could have stayed. Hell, he hadn't even found so much as a bottle of water or even a can of soda; there had simply been nothing but deteriorating houses and piles of junk.

Rick's original intention had been to travel away from the garage where Kate had been taken in the form of a spiral. That way, he would cover all directions as he slowly made his way away from the last place they were together. Without a compass, map, or any means of getting his bearings other than the sun, Rick knew he was not traveling in the exact trajectory he wanted to. Though he tried his best to stay on course, he literally could have been walking in any direction or in any number of spiral or circular patterns.

When the sun, along with his thirst, reached its highest point, Rick decided to abandon his circular plan and stay on a main road heading towards Philadelphia. Though it broke his heart to give up on her that way, he knew he could wander around for days, never find her, and end up succumbing to the elements or dehydration. He had memorized the corner of the street on which their garage haven sat. In doing so, he hoped that once he found a camp he would be able to return with a vehicle, perhaps even a search party and thereby increase his odds of finding Kate.

As sweat continued to pour off his brow, Rick stumbled on some roadside debris. He had not been paying attention to where he was walking and his foot caught on a tree limb. As he stumbled forward, trying to regain his balance, he ended up stepping off the roadway, which already had a steep embankment. The loose dirt moved beneath his feet and he helplessly slid along with it for several feet until his foot caught a rock and he pitched forward, landing with a thud onto his hands and knees. Grumbling to himself, he pushed himself upright, brushed off the now dirty knees of his pants and clambered back up towards the road.

No sooner had he stood upright once more did Rick notice a red SUV approaching from the direction he'd been walking. Immediately, terror clutched in his throat. Could he really survive being robbed for a third time in two days? With nothing left to give, would they take the clothes from his back and leave him stranded naked in the middle of zombie country? Or, were they the same thugs who had taken Kate, returning to take him as well. While clearly not a preferable situation, at least he would be able to see her again.

There was, of course, another option. The occupants of the approaching vehicle might not want to rob him. Perhaps they could prove to be allies. At the very least, they might be able to provide him with the water he so desperately needed. If things went extra well, maybe he could even get them to lend him a car so he could search for Kate.

Standing on the side of the road as the SUV was no more than a quarter mile away, Rick decided he would face them and not run. Knowing that might be the last decision he made as a living, breathing human, Rick's stomach rolled when he noticed the vehicle beginning to slow. Unlike with his written works, it was impossible to predict the ending of this encounter. Silently, he hoped for a positive one.

When the SUV stopped in front of him, Rick saw that it had two occupants—both men. Unlike the two groups of antagonists he and Kate had run across, these men were clean shaven and wearing clothing that did not appear ragged or dirty. To him, this was already a good sign. Smiling as much as he could in his unhappy state, Rick said, "Afternoon."

"Afternoon yourself." The driver, a slender-looking Asian man responded. "You in need of any help?"

Hoping the question was not a trap, Rick began, "Well…actually, yes. My girlfriend and I were traveling towards Philadelphia, but we were robbed…and then she was kidnapped."

"Jesus." The passenger commented. "When was that?"

"About six hours ago? Maybe? First thing this morning."

The passenger glanced over at the driver and the driver nodded. "You have any food or water on you?"

Rick reluctantly pulled the packet of peanut butter crackers from his pants pocket—his only remaining worldly possession—and held it up for them to see. The driver jerked his chin towards the back seat. "Get in."

"Oh, I…" Rick hesitated as all the lessons he'd taught his daughter about not getting into cars with strangers flashed into his mind.

"We'll take you back to our camp; we have plenty of food and water there."

His tongue feeling as dry as ever, Rick swallowed hard. "I'd appreciate that very much, but my girlfriend…"

The passenger gazed over at him. "You won't find her at all if you die of dehydration. Just come back with us and maybe we can figure something out."

Rick remained frozen, but only for a moment more before he reach out, somewhat reluctantly, and grasped the rear passenger car door. As concerned as he was about the intentions of the two men in the SUV, his survival instincts were weakening as they were quite right. He may have been able to spend another day looking for Kate, but with the heat he doubted he'd make it much longer without water and something more substantial then crackers to eat.

As he pulled the car door shut, the men took off again. The passenger turned around and asked, "What's your name? Where ae you from?"

"Rick Castle, Manhattan."

The man nodded. "I'm Henry; this is Pete. We're both from the Philly area. You walk all the way here from New York?"

Rick shook his head. "We had a car…took us about fifty miles, maybe, but otherwise yeah; it was all on foot."

"What's your girlfriend's name?" the driver asked, using the rear view mirror to glance back at Rick.

"Kate; it's Kate."

"Well, Rick, we'll help you find her if we can."

"Thanks." Feeling as weary as ever, Rick leaned back against the seat and gazed distantly out the window and wondered where Kate was—and if she was safe. Sadly, it was possible he might never find out.


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: Thank you all so much for your passionate reviews - they make me so happy! You guys are incredible and I thank you so much for your enthusiasm for this story_

* * *

 **TWELVE**

Kate awoke with a sharp intake of breath when the door to her makeshift prison cell creaked open. She blinked rapidly in the sudden light as her eyes began to water. The boiler room in which she was held was almost entirely dark save the small bit of light filtering in from the hallway beneath the door. Thus, she had no way to tell how long she was in the room and, with her blurred vision, no way to tell who was visiting her.

"Get up." A gruff voice commanded. Still attempting to clear her vision, Kate did not move, so she was roughly grabbed under the left elbow and hoisted to a standing position. By force, she stumbled forward and back out into the hall.

Within a few steps her vision adjusted once more and Kate could see that she was being led down a cinderblock wall hallway with concrete floors lit only by a lightbulb dangling from the ceiling every few feet. Had she not known better, she might have guessed she was in some sort of basement bunker, except they had not traveled down stairs at any point during her captivity.

Using the advantage of sight, Kate searched each wall and each corner they went around for an exit, but saw nothing but solid brick walls; that was unfortunate. As they walked, she also observed her captor. From what she could remember, this man had not been one of the ones who took her hostage when she was with Rick. He had auburn hair and a sizable mustache that she did not recall seeing before. He was also about twice her size and judging how painfully tight his grip on her arm was she was not going to be able to make an escape even if she did see a way out.

When the man led her around the next corner, Kate spotted the first sign of hope: a door! She felt her muscles coil and tighten, ready to flee at the first available opportunity, but one never came. The man led her directly to the door, opened it, and Kate realized it only led to a stairwell. As they began their ascent, she also came to the conclusion that she had been initially right: she was in a basement. Her best guess was that the building in which she was held was on a hill, thus making the basement accessible from a ground level without stairs, but also meaning there were floors above it.

One floor up, the red-haired man opened the stairwell door again and led her back out into a hallway. There, for the first time since leaving Rick, she was able to get her first glimpse of outside; to her left was what appeared to be a building lobby with a rounded desk and double glass doors. Judging by the pinkish-purple hues beginning to creep into the sky, Kate realized the day was coming to a close, which meant two things: she had been captive for approximately twelve hours and her window for escape had now diminished due to a lack of daylight. Still, if an opportunity presented itself, she knew she had to go for it.

Again, the red-haired man weaved her back many assorted hallways. From this level, the building appeared more office-like with an industrial carpet floor, drywall, and aesthetically pleasing light fixtures. Various doors also branched off from the hall at random, but she assumed these all led to interior rooms and offices and would not aid in her escape.

Kate's captor stopped in front of a large oak door where another, smaller man with a machete in his belt and a revolver in a shoulder holster stood guard. The two men nodded to one another, and the smaller man opened the oak door. She was then led into a room she quickly deduced as an executive's office. Or, at least it probably was when the building they were in was used as an office and not a bunker. It had wood-panel walls with built-in shelving. Along one wall sat a black leather couch along with two matching guest chairs. Straight ahead was a bulky black desk behind which stood the man Kate presumed to be "El Capitan."

At first blush, Kate was not overly impressed by the man. He was tall and lean; certainly not as bulky as even half his henchmen. He had a heavy brow and a sharp, angled nose making him appear not terribly different than a cartoon villain she might have seen on Saturday morning animated shows during her youth. He had dark hair that was cut in a regular men's style and a goatee that appeared well trimmed. Judging by his appearance alone, Kate presumed the man ruled on fear rather than by force.

When Kate met eyes with the man behind the desk, he gave her an almost smile. He walked around the desk until he was barely a few feet from Kate and asked her simply, "What's your name?"

"What's yours?" Kate countered.

The man tilted his head to the side and smirked, clearly amused. "Not interested in pleasantries, are you?"

As it happened, she was not. She was tired, hot, and more than a little sick of having her hands bound in front of her. Seeing as it had been going on twenty-four hours since she'd had anything to drink, she asked as politely as she could, "May I please have some water?"

The man ran his fingers over his goatee and repeated his first question. "What's your name?"

"Kate. May I please have some water?"

The man leaned back against the desk just as casually as ever. "If I give you water, what are you going to give me?"

Her brain somewhat foggy due to everything she'd been through that day, his statement did not entirely make sense to her so she replied with a dumb, "What?"

"I can't just _give_ you water, Kate," the man said, making it sound as though she'd requested a million dollars' worth of diamonds and her own small country to rule. "We need to make a trade. If I give you water, what are you prepared to offer me in return?"

Kate glanced down at her bound hands and then back up at her captor. "Sorry," she said, "I left my wallet at home."

The man smirked. "Funny. You're a funny girl, Kate; I like that. As it happens, you're in luck because money doesn't seem to mean much anymore. There are, however, several other forms of payment we would more than happily accept."

Kate fought the urge to retch at his tone. He didn't have to make it any clearer; she certainly picked up on his implication, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of riling her up or trying to get a response out of her so she merely gazed at him with a bored expression. Their stand-off continued for the better part of two minutes before the man pushed himself off the desk and shrugged.

"Well, I guess you must not be that thirsty yet, huh Kate? Why don't we see how you feel in the morning? Maybe twelve more hours will change your mind."

Kate fought the urge to growl as the red-haired man grabbed her bicep once more and began to lead her out of the office. Twelve more hours certainly would make her thirst unbearable; however she'd sooner die than participate in depraved acts on the goateed man or any of his cohorts. Such a fate would be far worse than death.

Though it wasn't much, being a cop did come with a small amount of survival training, so Kate was quite familiar with the rule of threes. On average, a human could survive no more than three minutes without oxygen, three days without water, and three weeks without food. Come morning, she would be halfway to that three day mark. However, given the heat, she could only guess she might not make it quite to the seventy-two hour mark without being in dire straits.

As dying of dehydration was not something she preferred to experience, Kate became even more vigilant about potential avenues of escape on the way back to her cell. From what she could tell, they were traveling the exact path they came from, which meant she needed to keep her eyes focused on the set of glass doors. When they rounded the final corner, Kate's heart seized in her chest at her luck; two men carrying cases of bottled water were going through the doors, which meant they were propped open. Fearing this would be her one and only chance, she knew she had to try.

As swiftly as she could, Kate picked up her right foot and slammed it into the side of her captor's left knee, causing him to yell out and crumble. With the grip of her bicep now almost gone, Kate swiftly brought her hands down against her body, allowing her forearms to contact sharply with her hip bones, and the zip ties she had weakened several hours earlier on the sharp edge of the boiler split open giving her full use of her hands.

Breaking into a dead sprint, Kate made for the door. She was so quick the men carrying in the water hardly reacted by the time she barreled past them and out of the building. There, she ran into her next problem. As she had arrived blindfolded, she had not seen the exterior of the building in which she was held or the area surrounding, so she had to make decisions on the fly.

Immediately outside the door was a concrete sidewalk and blacktop paved parking-lot. Kate took off running towards the driveway leading into the parking lot figuring it had to lead to a street somewhere. Unfortunately, the drive was curved and due to trees and bushes she could not see much further. She was concerned about not knowing what lay around the corner, but also knew she had very little choice.

By the time she reached the curve in the drive Kate could hear shouting and pounding footsteps behind her meaning she was being followed. That was okay, she decided, because thanks to the prior eight years of chasing down perps, she believed she could out sprint them; however, when she rounded the corner, Kate's run almost came to a dead halt.

Kate had absolutely no idea what type of building she had been held in, but it certainly was not an ordinary office building, because the drive was blocked by a secured gatehouse. Worse yet, from that vantage point she could see that the entire area was surrounded by fencing and that fencing appeared to have barbed wire on the top.

Cursing to herself, Kate continued running knowing she had to do her best to find an escape point. The gatehouse was guarded, but the guard was on the other side of the fence, so she knew she could run past him without him being able to catch her. She continued to follow the fence line, hoping to find a point of egress, but found none. Glancing back over her shoulder, she noticed the men getting closer and knew she had no choice.

With one jump, Kate managed to get halfway up the ten foot high fencing. Though it was difficult to get enough of a space for her toes in the tight fencing, she managed to hoisted herself up to the top, where the barbed wire loomed in front of her. The only advantage she had was that the wire was meant to keep people on the outside from getting in, not to keep people on the inside from getting out, so it was angled down and away. She feared jumping out around and over it, concerned a hard landing would break her ankle or leg and thus leaving her in even worse shape, so she gutted her way through swinging her leg over the wire and doing her best to grab onto the fencing below. The barbs dug into her knees, shins, and forearms, but she did not cry out; she merely grunted and pushed herself off the fence at the first opportunity and continued running without looking back.

* * *

"Feeling better now, Rick?"

As Rick walked into the kitchen of the clubhouse, he gave a half smile and a nod, though was internally conflicted. After receiving both food and water, fresh clothing, and—miracle of miracles—a lukewarm shower, he was indeed feeling better physically. Emotionally, however, was a different story.

Kate was out there, somewhere. He didn't know where; he didn't know in what state. Had her captors fed her? Had they at least given her water? Had they harmed her in anyway? There he was, safe and secure, and her life could have been in danger at that very moment. The guilt of that situation weighed heavily on Rick and he imagined it would continue to do so until they were reunited.

When Henry and Pete had picked him up from the side of the road, Rick was still hesitant to trust them, despite their pleasant demeanor. They drove for about twenty minutes until reaching their final destination: a gated community that contained both residential housing and a country club. As Henry explained when they drove through, the gated entryway was a bit misleading. The fencing surrounding the community was not complete and thus did not leave them one hundred percent secured from wandering zombies, but it certainly was a decent-enough deterrent.

Since he had arrived quite weary, the men had first provided him with a bottle of water and a granola bar. Once he was no longer delirious with hunger or thirst, they sat him down in the country club's main clubhouse, and gave him a brief overview of their community of approximately seventy people.

Henry's wife was the tennis manager at the country club before the world fell into disarray. When things began to fall apart, she and several other employees decided to hole up there, mainly since the clubhouse had generators and they feared the area would eventually lose electricity, which, of course, it had. Pete and his wife were their neighbors so they joined along with half a dozen other employees families; the rest had chosen to flee. Their remaining population was made up of the community residents who had stayed behind; they had encountered very few outsiders.

Rick was both fascinated by and grateful for their assistance and information. He would have easily been satisfied by the food and water, but Henry and Pete had expanded their deal by providing him with pants that incredibly fit almost as well as if he'd bought them for himself, a clean shirt, and a shower with water warmed by the sun. In the end, he truly felt like a different man and was more than ready to set off looking for his girlfriend once more. The only obstacle left was the setting sun.

"I really appreciate everything you've done for me. Honestly, I cannot thank you enough, and if I could trespass on your hospitality and spend the night, I would be grateful, but I'm afraid I'll need to leave in the morning."

Pete and Henry exchanged glances. "That's what we wanted to talk to you about, actually."

Rick's heart clutched in his chest. Damn it! He knew it had been too easy! They were going to hold him hostage too! Or, worse, eat him or something equally gruesome. Taking two steps back, Rick held his hands out defensively. "Look, it's fine; I can go right now…"

Henry's brow wrinkled. "What? No. Why would you leave? It's almost dark out."

"I don't want any trouble…"

Pete's expression wrinkled into one of confusion. "Why would there be trouble?

"I…I'm not sure. You said you wanted to talk about something…" he said, still not allowing himself to relax.

"Yeah, we wanted to take you to see some of the other guys who have done more exploring than us to see if we can narrow down who took your girlfriend," Henry said in a tone that made it sound as though his benign intentions had been clear from the start.

Rick rounded his shoulders and let out a relieved breath. Okay, they weren't trying to kill him; they were trying to help him! Once again, his overactive imagination had feared the worst.

Henry and Pete led Rick from the clubhouse across the street towards the nearest house. As they walked and dusk fell, a few streetlamps flickered on overhead. When Rick commented on them, Pete explained that they were all fueled by solar cells, so on sunny days like that one they would remain on for several hours; some even until the morning. Though it was silly, it made Rick smile to see that something seemingly normal remained.

Inside the house now lit by candles and battery operated lamps, Rick was introduced to the wives of the men who had rescued him and three new people: husband and wife Mary and Luke, and former country club golf pro, Blake. From the way they were described, Mary and Luke, the original owners of the home in which he stood, seemed to know a great deal about the area and what was going on post-apocalypse. They asked Rick to describe the situation in which Kate was kidnapped and he did so with as much detail as he could recall despite his brain still being foggy.

When Rick's description was finished Mary looked at her husband and questioned, "El Capitan?"

"Sounds like it." he replied.

"Wait—who is El Capitan?" Rick asked immediately.

Luke sighed and clasped his hands together. "We don't know much and even that's too much about these guys. They've got themselves holed up in some really secure building. No idea what it used to be—there's no signage or anything, which leads me to guess government. Anyway, the building is surrounded by fences, barbed wire."

"So you know where it is?" Rick asked, his excitement growing. If he knew where their hideout was, that was more than half the battle as far as he was concerned.

Luke hesitated. "I was only near it one. I _might_ be able to find my way back, but that's not the point. These guys are bad news. Back in the beginning—four or five months ago now—they tried to rough us up, take our supplies, but backed off when they realized just how many of us there were and how few of them."

"How many are there?"

"'bout thirty?" Luke guessed, glancing to his wife for confirmation.

"That we saw," Mary added.

"Right. And at the time we had over a hundred. Anyway, ever since that they've stayed out of our way and we've stayed out of theirs. It's just not worth it. We're not that heavily armed—had a horde come through a few months back, lost a bunch of people, used a lot of ammo," he explained briefly. "I mean, Blake can swing a mean golf club, but last we saw of El Capitan's men, they had some heavy weaponry."

"They definitely had a lot of guns," Rick said.

Luke bobbed his head. "Right. My point is that I'm really, really sorry about your girlfriend. Truly; I wouldn't with that on anyone, but please understand I have the safety of over seventy people to think about. I cannot risk starting something with them."

The hopeful feeling in his chest beginning to fade, Rick dropped his chin. "I get that, I really do. The last thing I want to do is put anyone, let alone a group as kind of yours, at risk, but I love this woman and I have to try and find her, no matter what."

When he was met with a room full of blank faces, he continued his plea. "I know that we just met and you have no reason to trust me let alone give me more than the water and food you already have. If this were a year ago I could offer you money, cars, sports tickets, vacations… _anything_ , but none of that means anything now. All I am is a man with nothing left begging you to think about what you would do if it was your wife, girlfriend, child or someone else you loved that had been taken by this El Capitan guy. Would you just sit here and do nothing?"

Rick looked at each of them in turn, pleading silently for any aid they could give. He cursed the new reality for taking away all his usual avenues to bargain with. He would have happily given these people all the money it took to get their help, but all the money in his bank account didn't mean a damn thing anymore—not that he had any way of accessing it. All he could do was that these were good, honorable people and they would do what they could to help him even if it was by giving him nothing more than a bottle of water and an address.

Almost two minutes of silence went by before Pete chimed in with, "I wouldn't do nothing."

"No, neither would I but…we have to think about this. Not like we can do anything tonight anyway." Luke pointed out due to the fact that it was nearly completely dark outside. "Why don't you go back to the clubhouse, sleep on one of those spare cots, and we'll talk about this again in the morning?"

As it was as close as he could get to a yes, Rick nodded with relief. "Sure, of course. Thank you—for everything."

Luke reached out his hand to shake Rick's. "No problem. The world isn't totally lost if we can still help each other, right?"

Rick was all too happy to agree. "Exactly."

* * *

 _A/N: Quick status update to let you know where we're at. There are 2 more chapters of this story AND i'm going to post the "alternate ending" that I've written because i can. Upcoming I also have a fic based on a prompt from Lou (Inkycoffee) - that's just a mini fic though. And the next big one will be Murphy's Law but I actually just kind of started writing it so I dont think I'll start posting it until mid September probably. We'll see._

 _Thanks :)_


	13. Chapter 13

**THIRTEEN**

As the first hint of sunrise began to peek over the horizon, Kate emerged from the kitchen pantry she had barricaded herself into and surveyed her surroundings. She crept around the first floor of the home, gazing out the windows from every angle to make sure the home was not surrounded by El Capitan or any of his thugs. When she found it clear, she returned to the kitchen, which was the best lit room of the house, and examined the wounds in her arms and legs.

Well, they didn't look much better, but thanks to the isopropyl alcohol she'd found under a bathroom sink, they didn't look worse either. She retrieved the bottle from where she'd left it and used a kitchen towel to apply more to her gashed and scrapes. The feeling was not quite as searing as it had been the night before, but it still was unpleasant and she gritted her teeth throughout, knowing that an infection would be almost as bad as not finding any water as quickly as possible.

The prior evening, Kate had run until her lungs burned and her wounded legs ached. After a ten second break behind a tree, she'd taken off running once more and continued to move forward until it became almost too dark for her to safely see. Thankfully, she had not come across any zombies in that time, nor had any of El Capitan's people found her. She hoped that she was not worth enough for them to track after—especially in the dark—but had still hidden herself and stayed awake listening for signs of a potential attack for the entire night.

Despite her tragic situation, she did have one small bit of luck. In addition to the isopropyl alcohol and a handful of bandages, the house she'd chosen for a bunker also had jeans and a t-shirt that fit her reasonably well, which were a welcome replacement from her soiled shorts and tank, even with the summer heat.

After bandaging up her deepest wounds and finding a bag in which to carry two spare bandages and the alcohol, Kate set off along the neighborhood streets. That morning, she had two very important goals. First, find water and food, preferably in that order. Second, find a point from which to orient herself. Thanks to the blindfold she had no idea of the direction in which El Capitan's men had taken her. She knew her starting point was approximately twenty miles north of Philadelphia, but could not get any more specific than that—not that it mattered if she had no idea what direction she'd traveled from there. She was hoping to reach a main road that would have directional mileage signs. Given her battered state, the closer she was to Philadelphia, the better.

Making her way down a street she hoped led towards a main road, Kate searched every house she came across for food and water, but found them all to be almost entirely bare. Given the fact that most of the homes had shattered windows and kicked in doors, this did not surprise her, but she was banking on finding a stray can of soup or, really, any canned item, but all she found were unusable dry goods: rice, beans, and some flour.

By the time she reached the main road it was mid-morning. The day was overcast, but humid, making her thirst persist. After passing two street signs displaying names of locations she did not recognize, Kate felt extreme weariness settling into her body, right down into her bones. The prior-forty eight hours had been utterly exhausting; the emotional and physical stress she'd been subjected to had only been made worse by the fact that her dietary needs had not been met. She had hopefully picked up a water bottle thinking it was at least partially full only to find out the interior was merely dotted with condensation more times than she cared to count, each one of them etching away at her already fragile state.

Standing there, on the side of a road in the middle of what she presumed to be Pennsylvania, Kate had never regretted her decision to leave the treehouse more. Had she not made that decision, she, Rick, and Tux would have been safe at that very moment. They would have had food and water. They would not have been attacked and robbed multiple times. They would have been fine.

Rationally, she knew their safe haven would not have lasted forever, especially when it came to food, but that moment was not one filled with rational thought for Kate. She didn't give a damn about being rational. All she wanted was a drink and something to eat. Hell, she would have even taken the pork rinds she rejected months earlier as long as they came with a full bottle of water.

In the midst of her internal scorning about leaving the treehouse, Kate had stopped walking without realizing. When she became aware of her lack of progress, she decided a five minute break was warranted. Lifting her feet off the ground as much as her weary brain would allow, Kate shuffled her way towards the nearest tree and collapsed against it. She slid down to the ground and sat with her feet flat. Then, she bowed her head forward and forehead against her knees. Five minutes; all she needed was five minutes.

* * *

"I really cannot thank you enough for doing this." From his position in the front passenger seat Rick glanced at both Pete and his wife Jessica in turn. In the end, it hadn't taken much to convince them to go on a search and rescue mission; his impassioned speech had won them over. Before venturing out that morning they had warned him that their quest would more than likely fail. Rick understood the risks; he knew they might never find her even if they searched a week, and he had been only granted one days' use of a vehicle, but he knew he could never live with himself unless he tried.

Before setting out, the three of them had met with Luke and he had shown them a map of where they were, still almost twenty miles north of Philadelphia, and where he believed El Capitan's compound to be located. Luke once again reiterated that he did not want to get close enough to ruffle El Capitan's feathers, but Rick insisted they wouldn't have to. Kate was smart and resourceful and he was more than willing to bet that she had somehow managed to escape her captors and was on the run somewhere in the surrounding area.

"Even if that's the case, we're talking about a hundred square miles," Luke had said.

"I know," Rick returned, "but we have to at least try."

And try they had practically since first light. They'd driven up and down most every main road to the south of the compound and at midday were moving on to those to the west. With each abandoned stretch of blacktop, Rick's optimism began to fade. Even if they drove right past her there was no guarantee they would find her. She might be fearful of El Capitan's group and thus be hiding behind a tree or in a building. He had his window rolled down in hopes she might see him, but there was still no guarantee.

"It's really no problem, Rick; we're glad to help. Or try to help, anyway." Jessica told him while giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "How long have you and Kate been together?"

In response to the question, Rick almost laughed. Had it been a year earlier, he would have thought himself insane for falling irrevocably in love with a woman after barely more than two months together, but the circumstances were far from ordinary. From the start they'd spent every waking hour together, bringing them much closer than two people in a traditional relationship. Add on top of that their obvious connection and the life threatening circumstances surrounding them on a day to day basis, and it had simply happened.

"Only a few months. We met after it all happened. She saved my life…twice, actually," he said referring to both the imminent zombie attack and the fact that without her he had a limited desire to continue on without his mother and daughter.

Jessica smiled. "That's so sweet. I'm glad you two were able to find each other though all of this."

"Thanks. Me too. I—wait stop!" Rick should when something along the side of the road caught his eye. "Stop! Stop the car!"

Pete did as instructed while asking, "What is it?"

Had it not been for the pale blue color of the jeans, he might have missed the petite figure huddled against the tree, but he saw it—her, judging by the brown hair curtaining down over the folded arms. After sending a silent prayer heavenward, Rick reached for the door handle only to be stopped by Pete.

"It might not be her; it might be one of them."

Rick expression remained steadfast. "I have to check." With that, he popped open the door handle and slid from the vehicle. He was still several hundred feet from the figure, so he crept as gently as he could with his heart slamming violently against his rib cage. "Please don't be a zombie; please don't be a zombie…" He repeated under his breath. He knew finding her undead would be far worse than simply finding her dead, though of course neither scenario was preferable.

When Rick was about a hundred feet away, he called out softly, "Kate?" but the figure didn't move. This led him to believe that the crumpled figure was not a zombie, for one of those surely would have roused with the combination of his noise and scent (or however else zombies detected their victims).

"Kate? It's me: Rick."

He crept continually closer, but still the figure did not rouse. Now barely a dozen feet from her, Rick contemplated his next action. In case she was armed, he did not want to touch her and end up starling her for fear of her accidentally injuring one or both of them. He searched for a stick with which to nudge her foot, but he found none. Instead, he found a rock, which he pitched at a nearby speed limit sign. When the rock and sign connected, an unpleasant clang was made which, thankfully, roused the delirious woman on the ground. Rick dropped to his knees.

"Kate? Hey, Kate; it's me?"

With a sluggish gaze, her eyes turned towards him and focused, though barely. "Rick? Is-is-that-"

"Woah hey, hey." He dove quickly to her side when he noticed her head beginning to bob. "You're okay, Kate; you're going to be okay."

Rick took a moment to cradle his body against hers and try his best not to break down in tears. He'd found her! He'd actually found her! The odds had been almost impossibly stacked against them, but once again they'd conquered them together. His emotional state caused his limbs to begin to tremble, but he knew he needed to hang on long enough to get her to safety.

With all the strength he could muster, he scooped Kate up from the ground and hurried back to the truck as quickly as he could. Jessica had moved to the front passenger seat to give him room to slide Kate into the back. Once they were both settled, Jessica handed back a bottle of water with the cap off and Rick accepted it with a thank you.

Cradling Kate's head as best he could due to the awkward angle, Rick held the bottle to her mouth and poured a small amount through her cracked lips. He waited a few moments and then repeated the process again. On the third time around she grumbled something he could not understand, but he did manage to rouse her enough to let her take a longer drink from the bottle. Then, she settled back against him and he pressed his lips to her head, trying his best not to cry in front of the practical strangers.

From his position behind the wheel, Pete shook his head disbelievingly. "That's one lucky lady."

"Who isn't in great shape, either." Jessica added, pointing towards her forearms.

Rick gazed down and saw the blood covered bandages and cursed beneath his breath. He hated to see her injured, but now that they were together, she was safe. She would be okay; they both would.

"Let's get out of here."

Pete silently nodded, did a U-turn in the middle of the street, and headed back towards the country club.

* * *

Kate opened her eyes and found herself staring up at a pure white ceiling. She was inside. Somewhere inside. Oh god—where was she!?

Fear clutching her chest, she sat immediately upright and gasped until a hand came to rest gently on her arm.

"Kate, Kate; you're okay; you're safe."

Kate glanced to her left and saw the most incredible sight she had seen in quite some time: Rick, smiling at her. She remained too stunned to respond verbally so he lifted his hand from her arm and cradled her jaw. "Do you think you could drink a little more now? I don't want you to get sick. You can have some fruit, too. It's canned, but the sugar should actually help you feel better."

Still too amazed to really process his words she merely said his name softly. He smiled grew wider.

"Yes, it's me; you're safe Kate. Do you remember what happened?"

"Remember…" She echoed him and lowered her gaze to her lap so she could think back. She had been running away from El Capitan, hidden in a house, and then she remembered walking, but everything was fairly hazy. She did, however, remember a distinct set of blue eyes. "You found me?"

He nodded and gave her left hand a squeeze. "You were passed out on the side of a road. I'm guessing you hadn't had anything to eat or drink since you'd been taken from the garage…"

She shook her head. "No, no I hadn't…"

He gave her hand a solid squeeze. "Did they hurt you, Kate? We saw your arms and then when I undressed you I saw your legs."

She shook her head. "No, no; I did that to myself—had to climb over a barbed wire fence to escape."

The writer's eyes grew wide. "Barbed wire? Jesus. Well, here, you can tell me all about it, but drink this first." He held a cup of water before her and she took it, gulping it down greedily. It did not taste quite as good as the cooled water from the mini-fridge in the treehouse, but it was damn close. Once her cup was drained, he passed over a small plastic dish of pineapples with a plastic spoon in it. Normally, she was not a huge pineapple fan, but as she was contemplating eating the dish itself, she happily munched down on the sweet, juicy fruit. She even poured the remaining juice into her mouth once she'd finished.

Rick smiled at he took the dish from her. "Feel better?"

"Getting there, but a hug would help."

He chuckled and slid from the chair on which he sat to the edge of her cot. "You got it."

Kate wrapped her arms around his shoulders and tucked her face into his neck. Feeling the stubble there brush against her nose sent tingles down her spine. She had feared she would never see him again; that they would never be able to find each other, but he had rescued her. Given how they met, that felt entirely appropriate. She kissed the underside of his jaw before saying, "Thank you for finding me."

"Hey, I had to keep my promise, right? We're in this thing together; always."

Kate stayed in his embrace for several minutes before pulling back and brushing her lips against his. Unable to suppress her curiosity any longer she asked, "So where are we? The save haven in Philadelphia?"

"Ah, no; we didn't make it there, assuming it actually exists. These people didn't know anything about it when I asked, but they're kind of isolated. We're actually on a golf course. Well, in the clubhouse of a country club that has a golf course—bout twenty miles north of Philly."

"'They?'" she questioned, curious. "Who's 'they?'"

"This community of people; there are about seventy of them." Rick then briefed her on the situation surrounding his encounter with the group and their subsequent plan that ended in her rescue.

Kate nodded and considered the information. Of course she was grateful to the group of heroes who had not only kept her boyfriend safe, but afforded him the opportunity to find her; to enable them to stay together. Yet, she could not help but worry about a long-term solution to their recent homelessness. After everything, she was not terribly keen on getting right back on the road.

"Do you think they'll let us stay here?"

He brought one of her hands up to his lips and held it there for a moment. Then, lowering it from his mouth, he held it against his chest while stroking her wrist delicately with his thumb. "Well, they're not kicking us out tonight. You just need to focus on resting up and getting rehydrated; we both do."

She nodded, knowing he was right, and leaned her body into his once more. "I know and I will I just…can't stop wondering where we'll be tomorrow and the night after that and the night after that…"

"Together." He promised her. "No matter where it is, I can guarantee that Kate; I'm never letting you out of my sight again."

She chuckled. "I might get sick of you then."

"Mmm no; no one in the history of time has ever gotten sick of me."

"Then they must have been lying to you."

"Kate!"

She laughed when he grumbled at her. After kissing the underside of his jaw she said, "Kidding. I'll never get sick of you."

"Never is a very long time, Kate." He cautioned her.

Snuggling up against him, she closed her eyes and let herself relax fully for the first time since they left the treehouse. "I know."

* * *

 _A/N: and you guys were worried :P_

 _The next chapter, the final official chapter, is the epilogue of sorts and then don't forget about the alt. ending. :)_

 _Thank you so much for all your reviews!_


	14. Chapter 14

**FOURTEEN**

(Three Years Later)

"And…here we are," Rick said as he eased the Mercedes SUV onto the now cracked driveway leading up to the Hamptons estate. Grass, weeds, and even a small flower or two popped up through the fissures in what was once a smoothly paved surface. Though it fell short of its once-manicured state, the sight was not unusual; half the roads they'd traveled to arrive in Southampton looked the same.

Kate leaned forward in her seat so she could better view the entire frontage of the home through the car's windshield. Despite the fact that over the years some of the shingles had fallen off and the porch looked like it could use a fresh coat of paint, the house was still quite impressive. She imagined that in its prime it would have been positively breath taking, but also knew her husband had full intent of renovating it back to that state as soon as possible.

As her eyes grazed across the front of the home, she spotted a second vehicle parked in front of the driveway and frowned at the two suit-wearing men standing beside it. "Babe, did you have to call in the National Guard to come with us?"

He chuckled haughtily. "That's not the National Guard—I called them; they wouldn't come. Something about this not being an actual emergency…" He winked at her and she rolled her eyes. "No, those two are private security."

Though their home had already been swept and confirmed clear of any zombie presence, Rick insisted that he wanted to be extra sure their first visit would be a safe one—particularly for his wife and her precious cargo. Kate assured him everything would be fine, but of course he'd gone above and beyond; when didn't he?

Rick parked their car beside the security personnel's vehicle and the duo stepped out, Kate a bit slower due to her expanding belly. The writer shook hands with the two men and confirmed the home and perimeter were secure before escorting his wife to the door.

When they received the first report from the caretaker hired, Rick and Kate realized how lucky they were. Aside from a few broken windows and some mild structural damage, the Hamptons estate was in good shape. The interior did not show any signs of destruction or ransacking so it was entirely possible that wind and rain from storm caused the external defects and not people; certainly not zombies. Upon hearing this, Rick expressed his guilt over the loss of his mother and daughter. He, for some reason, believed this to be solid proof that had they made it there they all would have survived, but Kate cautioned him against such thoughts. First, given what a treacherous trek it would have been, there was no guarantee they all would have survived the journey. Second, this information was learned after the fact; at the time they would have had no way of knowing if the estate was safe or overrun. Though he knew her reasoning to be rational, Rick still struggled, which was why Kate suggested the visit at the first safe opportunity.

"Ready?" Kate asked, looking up at him as he paused with the keys in his hands. When he didn't respond right away, she skimmed her hands over her belly. "You can go in alone at first if you want. We'll wait out here."

"No." He assured her, reaching out to take her hand. "I don't want to do this alone."

When Rick unlocked the door and they stepped inside, Kate was overwhelmed with the scent of dust and mustiness to the point where she sneezed twice. Her husband apologized for the state of the home, but she assured him it was fine as she pulled a tissue from her pocket. Though he'd originally wanted to hire a cleaning crew, she said there was no need for that to occur before their day trip. No sense cleaning something that would be dirtied up again during the renovation.

Kate dropped her husband's hand and stepped through the foyer and into the well-lit sitting room that led out into a beautiful back porch. She could immediate see herself sitting there, rocking a sleeping infant, listening to the waves crashing gently against the surf; she couldn't wait.

Just a few steps into the sitting area, Kate came across the first set of family photos and eagerly picked one up. Though it was clearly taken when Alexis was around five or six—over a decade earlier—it was easy for Kate to recognize the family of three even though it was her first time seeing the two red-heads. She smiled down at the frame, both happy to be able to put faces to their names, and sad that she would never have the privilege of meeting them.

Still holding the picture, she turned around, smiled and held it out to the man standing at the edge of the room. "See," she said. "I told you that you'd get your pictures back."

"Yeah." He replied, his voice noticeably thick with emotion.

She walked over, handed him the frame, and then stood on her toes in order to kiss his cheek. Then, backing away, she said, "I'll be on the porch; you take your time."

His eyes widened and he said, "Be careful; watch the-"

"-beach." She finished for him before nodding. "I know."

Though nearly a full year had passed since the government had declared the zombie epidemic "cured" it was not uncommon for one of them to appear now and then, and beaches were the most common places to have a sighting. Though no one quite realized at the time, because zombies did not need to breathe, being underwater was actually a perfect spot for them to exist. Countries and cities desperate to rid their streets of these dangerous beings began dumping undead into the water by the thousands. There was, of course, no way to know a zombie's geographical origins, but every time she read about a sighting or heard about it on the news, Kate wondered just how far it had traveled before washing up in the surf.

Fortunately, other than some seaweed, the estate's beach was pristine. Kate stood at the railing with one hand on it and the other below her stomach as the salty, sticky breeze ruffled her hair and the sound of seabirds could be heard. The beach sightings were becoming progressively more rare; one had not been heard of north of the Carolinas in almost six months. This would be a safe place for them to raise their son once it was renovated, but they had ten weeks; that was plenty of time.

After a few more minutes of observing the surf, Kate moved to sit on one of the wicker loveseats on the porch. The cushion had seen better days, so she tossed it aside, but the remaining seating was sturdy, though probably not comfortable enough for sitting for a long duration of time. She sighed, gazed up at the passing clouds, and waited for her husband to join her, which took only another five minutes. He sat down beside her, draped an arm over her shoulders and she snuggled into him. Resting her hand on his leg she asked, "You okay?"

"Mmhm." He sighed. "Just thinking about Alexis, about Mother, about the crazy last four years…."

Kate snuggled into him a bit tighter. She tried not to think of the past, not to think of how difficult life had been very often. She wanted to live in the present and try to forget the horrible things they had seen. They had each other; they were about to start a family. To her, this was enough, though she understood that being back in his home made her husband reflective and she wanted to give him that time.

Though Kate joked about the government's incompetence, she honestly did not expect to arrive at the first post-apocalyptic winter with absolutely no guidance or formal intervention from the military, but there was nothing. She, Rick, and the seventy-some other residents of the country club hunkered down and somehow managed to survive the absolute hardest three months of her life. When the weather finally broke, ten of them had died of exposure, the rest were starved, malnourished and hanging on by a thread.

With the area completely tapped out of supplies, the group headed south towards Washington, D.C. hoping to find a better, more permanent camp, but for miles they saw nothing but people in similar if not worse states than they. Finally, by early summer, they found a community in northwest Virginia run by a military installment. Though they too were operating with limited supplies, they accepted Kate, Rick, and the surviving group of forty-two they traveled with. Fortunately for the road-weary bunch, that was the turning point for the better.

A secret government lab tucked into the Nevada Mountains had finally discovered and tested a vaccination to make humans immune to the Zombie Virus, as it was now known. Once the vaccination was widespread, cleanup began. With the vaccination, a bite did not sentence one to death. Of course, one could still die if an attack was violent enough, but such a death would be due to blood loss or other trauma. Most importantly, that death would not result in a person returning as a zombie.

Over the next year, the country experience what felt like another industrial revolution. Slowly, electricity returned. Then gasoline and diesel arrived to fuel cars and trucks. Manufacturing resumed as did the planting and harvesting of crops. Of course, the country's population had been decimated—upwards of sixty percent had perished—but those left were as determined as ever to rebuild.

Unfortunately for those from major cities like Rick and Kate, returning to the homes they once loved was not possible. In order to eradicate the zombies, the government chose to bomb and burn most of the cities; New York had been near the top of the list. Two years after they met, the newly married couple was finally able to move back to the northeast—to a renovated New Jersey apartment building now housing young couples who had survived. Kate began work on the local police force and Rick tried his best to return to writing.

Once the country's financial situation was sorted out and Rick had access to his wealth once again, he and Kate moved from the apartment to a duplex not too far away. It was there they had shared the memories that had seemed the most normal to them: sitting on the couch sharing a bottle of wine and deciding they wanted to start their family, huddled together in the same place as they waited for the results of the pregnancy test, and a few months later discussing where they wanted to raise their son and how best to help him thrive in the new, uncharted world.

"Thanks for coming here with me," Rick said gently after they'd sat in a comfortable silence for almost ten minutes.

Kate slid from his embrace enough to kiss him. "Of course. I can't wait for us to live here; for us to raise James here."

Rick smiled and placed his palm on her belly, splaying his fingers out so he could cover almost the full bump with his touch. "I can't wait for that either, even though he won't grow up in the same world we did."

She shook her head and snuggled up to him again. "No, he won't."

The subject had been debated by them several times. For a while, even after things took a turn for the positive, neither thought it was responsible to bring a child into the world. Too much was still unknown; there was too much danger. But, as time wore on, they knew it was part of the healing process. Moving on, starting anew, and building the world back to be (hopefully) a better place.

After a few more minutes of sitting, Rick kissed his wife's head and reached out for her hand. "C'mon; let's finish the tour."

She let him help her to a standing position and lead the way back into the house. As they stepped inside she asked, "And then can we go back to discussing those colors for the bedroom?"

He gave her a skeptical look. "By 'discussing' do you mean 'arguing?'"

She grinned and stroked her belly. "We wouldn't argue if you just agreed with me, Babe."

He stopped walking and pouted at her. "It's not going to work this time so don't even try it."

"What's not going to work?" she responded, her voice ringing with innocence.

"This!" He proclaimed pointing between her face and her belly and back again. "I know you think rubbing your belly makes me give in to you, but it won't work. We're not painting the bedroom lavender. That's your pregnancy brain affecting your judgement. We're going with either that beige or the light gray. Between them you can decide; I'm ok with either."

"Gray." She decided instantly, even though she still did like the photograph of the lavender master bedroom she had seen in a magazine. Then again, the odds of her being able to decorate it as effectively seemed slim, so he probably made a valid point.

As they held hands and made their way through the rest of the home on the tour, Kate couldn't help but smile. As nice as their place was in New Jersey, it still didn't feel like home and never had. This place, however, would be home—their home. They would raise their son and possibly even more of their children in the future. They would laugh in the kitchen, play out on the sand, and go to bed in their gray master suite every night for the rest of their lives and she couldn't wait.

* * *

 _A/N: As you can see, this was the epilogue of sorts. I really hope you all enjoyed this story - i apprecaite all your reviews. I've been trying to write a zombie AU forever and I'm very happy with how this came together so I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did_

 _As I mentioned last chapter, there is an alternate ending which i will post some time this week (remember: alternate doesnt meant bad! ;) )_

 _As for what's next... I have a few... Murphy's Law, A Reasonable Doubt...and I might possibly post something during the Pornado on tumblr next weekend...maybe. Generally my attempts at smut have been tragic, but time will tell..._

 _thanks!_


	15. Alternate Ending

_A/N: This would replace Chapters 12 & 13 - should be fairly self explanatory. I didn't want to go with this ending, but wanted to explore it anyway as it seemed somewhat more "realistic" (as realistic as things can get during a zombie apocalypse) _

* * *

**Alternate Ending**

 _18 months later_

Kate Beckett shivered as she hurried inside her lower Manhattan apartment building and into the dimly lit lobby. As she made her way past the elevator with the handwritten "Out of Order" sign on it she thought for perhaps the hundredth time that, while it was nice to be back in the city that had been her home for so long, she really did miss her old apartment building. This one was certainly…less than ideal.

Several months earlier, when she was finally able to move back into the city, Kate for the first time in almost two years begin to feel the semblance of normalcy settling over her. Granted, most of Manhattan was still uninhabitable thanks to the bombing done to rid the city of its undead occupants. Even the areas not covered in debris were mostly blocked off until the authorities could be one hundred percent certain that no corpses remained.

Due to the business, financial, and international occupants, they were moving from the southern end of the island northwards to clear and clean up. As a law enforcement professional, Kate had been in one of the first waves of people allowed back into the city. Granted, she was not solving homicides or doing any other detective work; she was back to being a beat cop because that was the position that needed filled, but after not working for nearly two years, Kate was simply glad to have something steady and meaningful to occupy her time.

As she trudged up the stairs to her second floor apartment, Kate shivered and stuffed her hands down into her pockets. Thought there were definitely more good days than bad days, the city's infrastructure was still in flux and thus things like heat and electricity were not always consistent. Add to that the sub-zero temperatures outside, and the best they seemed able to achieve was a temperature warm enough to prevent frostbite and freezing pipes, but one that also still made wearing multiple sweaters and heavy socks indoors a necessity.

Kate unlocked her apartment, stepped inside, and breathed a sigh of relief. At least it wasn't as cold in there as it was in the stairwell. She shed her hat, sweater, and heavy jacket, before crossing the tight kitchen-slash-living area space to the petite bedroom and bath. This apartment was by far the smallest she'd ever lived in, but it was fine—certainly larger than the treehouse she had inhabited for several months. Besides, she didn't have too much choice in the matter. The government had doled out apartments in that area to law enforcement and other employees of the state at an extremely reduced monthly fee due to the dangers existing still within the city.

Even if she'd wanted to pay more to live somewhere else, there weren't many options. The subway tunnels were too riddled with bodies to be used yet and there weren't many buses running, either. At least, not nearly enough to keep up with the number of people who wanted to get to and from their jobs. Walking was more or less the only travel option, but that was okay; she was used to walking.

Kate didn't know how many hundreds of miles she'd walked over the prior year, but she almost felt better off not knowing, for the number surly would have been large. She had walked from Manhattan to the treehouse and from central New Jersey into Pennsylvania with her companion, but the bulk of her walking had been done after she had separated from the mystery writer.

After escaping "El Capitan" and his men, she had a rough few days navigating the wounds she received thanks to barbed wire fencing while still searching for food and water. She'd come as close as she ever had to not making it, but a passing caravan of two women and their combined five children took pity on her. They were traveling as far south as their vehicle would take them and agreed to drop Kate off a bit closer to Philadelphia.

Kate had absolutely no idea where to begin looking for Rick, but the Philadelphia camp was her only clue. After a day of travel due to blocked roads and a bridge that looked too dilapidated to safely cross, her temporary companions dropped her off near the Pennsylvania-Maryland boarder. Kate moved northward and searched the area west of Philadelphia for nearly three weeks, but found no such safe haven. Starved and devastated, she bunkered down for the night in an abandoned car and decided her only course of action would be to move southward.

Giving up on finding Rick was, quite possibly, the most shattering decision she had ever made in her life and it was certainly not one she took lightly. In the end, it became a matter of survival. Her search had been extensive, though of course she hadn't covered every square foot. It was possible for her to find him if he was there, but it was also possible she'd be wandering around southern Pennsylvania until the snow began to fall and then she'd never find him. By that point, both her vague perception of the date and the crispness in the morning air told her that she was on the cusp of fall meaning she needed a plan for winter. Going south was her only option and thus, with a heavy heart, Kate set off towards Maryland.

Though it took her almost another month, Kate was able to find a camp just south of the nation's capital in D.C. The gated neighborhood was stocked with canned goods and bottled rainwater and agreed to let her bunker down for the winter. They still had snow those few months—certainly more than she would have preferred given that she slept in a home heated only by a single fire on the first floor—but it wasn't awful. She survived, and that was the most important thing.

The onset of spring brought the first news from the government. A vaccination to prevent against the spread of the zombie plague had been created and representatives were going to begin administering it as well as attempt to reform the country as a unified nation instead of clustered groups of survivors. Of course, this did not happen overnight and while she had grown fond of some of her fellow refuges in the Virginia camp, Kate still held out hope she would be able to find Rick, as impossible as it seemed, so at the first opportunity, she began traveling north once more.

For a reason Kate could not explain, she had a hunch—really, a hope—that after being unable to find her, Rick would return to the treehouse where they had met. She knew such a thought was entirely irrational. She had no idea if he was alive or still looking for her, but the thought gave her hope when she awoke in the morning. The thought gave her the motivation to keep walking when her feet ached after wearing through a second pair of shoes since the beginning of society's downfall.

In the end, Kate never made it back to the treehouse. She was sidelined in Philadelphia, where the a roving military patrol corralled her into a camp set up for safety while the vaccine was administered and existing zombie hordes were eradicated. For a brief moment, the prospect of finding Rick flashed through her mind, but he wasn't there and thus she passed the year mark of their meeting alone.

As a ranking law enforcement officer in one of the largest cities in the country, Kate was afforded certain advantages in the new post-zombie-virus world. As she was trained, willing and able, she was invited into the security team in the camp, despite technically being a civilian. She was allowed in the first wave of citizens returning to the New York area, and she was permitted to register on the survivors list before the general public.

As the government began to reform and build back its infrastructure, word of a potential survivor's list or survivor's database filtered through Kate's camp. The prospect of this both delighted and terrified her. If a survivor's list existed, it would be possible for she and Rick to find each other again. However, this also came with the devastating possibility that Rick's name would not be on the list, because he had not survived for one reason or another.

When the list became official, Kate, as a government employee, was allowed to register first to beta test the system. She entered her information—full name, birthdate, her location when the virus hit, her current residential location, her current phone number—and, most importantly, the name of anyone she was searching for and as much of their information as she could provide. So as not to open up the information to everyone a user could only see information if they were mutually matched with someone. That was to say she would only be able to see Rick's information if he had listed her as someone he was searching for.

Ever since filling out her information, Kate had woken every day wondering if that would be the day she would hear from Rick. Her feelings were absurd, of course. For the vast majority of those days the database was not yet open to the public, thus it would have been nearly impossible for him to contact her. Still, as the public launch date grew nearer, Kate's anxiety heightened.

On the day of the public release, Kate could hardly tolerate her agonizing eight hour shift so that she could check her phone messages. When she found none, the disappointment almost crushed her, but then she had to remind herself to think like Rick. It was absurd to think that just because he had not contacted her on the first day that he was dead. The government was slowly releasing the database to the public. Whatever camp he ended up at might not have been in the initial wave. No, she would need to wait at least a week, possibly longer; then, she'd worry.

Three days later, her "I won't worry" mantra was wearing pretty thin. With each story from her coworkers about discovering a loved one, her heart sank deeper in her chest. She began to wonder what had done Rick in assuming he had not survived. A zombie? The winter cold? Another group of thugs? The prospect of not knowing seemed quite devastating.

Trying to push such thoughts from her mind, Kate changed out of her uniform into sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt with a hoodie over top and walked into the cramped apartment kitchen to make dinner. Food was slowly being rationed out by the government and it wasn't much or very fancy, however it was a vast improvement from scouring through abandoned homes hoping for a granola bar or bag of mostly stale cereal.

Just as she was debating between a chicken or beef MRE, Kate heard a knock at her apartment door. For several moments she merely stared towards the entry way; she almost never had visitors. Cautiously, she approached the door and, upon peering through the peep hole, let out a scream. Her fingers trembling, she struggled to undo the locks and chains. Shen then grappled with the door handle for what felt like minutes but was only around ten seconds before coming face to face with the man she had not seen in over a year and a half. He wore jeans and a heavy winter jacket. His face seemed worn and older, yet his smile stretched ear to ear.

"Hi," he said, just as casually as ever.

Kate's chest began to heave and she could not have stopped the tears if she wanted to. Without even saying a word she flung herself forward and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, burying her face in the open collar of his coat. Rick was here; Rick was alive.

Rick was alive!

* * *

Rick cradled the back of the crying woman's head and felt tears begin to prick his own eyes. The relief of being able to hold her again was indescribable, even for a writer like himself. He dropped a kiss onto her hair and pulled her closer, rocking them both gently back and forth.

That morning, when he had finally been granted access to the survivor's database he'd practically battle-rammed his way to the front of the line. Instead of doing as instructed and filling out his profile first, he'd immediately gone to the search feature, only to realize he would get not results without first having a profile. Cursing under his breath, he'd angrily typed out his information and bashed the mouse while selecting "Submit." When her name and address popped up at the top of his match results, he'd leapt from his chair and yelped with joy.

He had been afraid for a year and a half that she hadn't made it or, possibly worse, that she'd remained a captive and the group of thugs had done unspeakable things to her. Of course, without knowing what all she went through during their separation, he still could not rule out such horrible things, but at least she was there, alive, and in his arms after so much time apart.

As Kate let out a shuttered breath, Rick skimmed his fingers down her spine and said softly, "It's okay, Kate; I'm right here."

"I never thought I'd see you again." She whimpered, squeezing him a bit tighter.

He shut his eyes and pressed his cheek against the top of her head. "I know; me too, but I'm right here."

They held each other for the better part of five minutes on the threshold of Kate's apartment before she pulled back, sniffing and rubbing her cheeks with the back of her hand. Smiling up at him, she shook her head gently. "Sorry, I, sorry—please come in."

"No worries." He grinned at her and stepped through the doorway. He unzipped his coat and hung it on the hooks on the wall by the entryway before stepping into the kitchen area and observing the small space. "This is nice."

"Uh, yeah, it's tight, but at least it's inside, right? Would you like to sit, or keep standing? Or—god, sorry." She groaned and covered her face with her hands. "I don't even know what to do. Are you sure you're real?"

He smiled and approached her, settling his hands at her waist as she placed hers on his biceps. "Very real."

"You got my name through the database?"

He bobbed his head. "Just registered this morning."

Her eyebrow arched. "And you came right here?"

His grip on her waist tightened and he drew her just a few inches closer. "You doubted I would?"

She shook her head and shrugged. "Thought you might just call first—not that I'm complaining."

He moved his hands from her waist to beneath her jaw and said gently. "Why would I call when I could just come here and see your beautiful face?" She smiled and leaned into him, but he stopped her, holding her firm just a few inches away from him. "I, ah, hate to start out with the most awkward question but: are you with anyone? Like, a boyfriend?" He questioned. She shook her head with a smile and the writer's entire body relaxed. "Thank god."

Pressing his lips against Kate's for the first time in eighteen months felt like a magical, out of body experience for Rick. Though he'd dreamed of their kisses many times, the memories paled in comparison to the real, incredible thing. As they kissed it felt like no time had passed at all between them—like they had just left the treehouse only days earlier.

"Mmm Kate." He hummed when she pulled back and leaned her forehead against his.

She gave him another quick kiss before asking, "You don't have to go soon, do you? Can you stay a while?"

He grinned. "I can stay all night if you want. In fact, why don't I just stay another two hours and then I _have_ to stay all night," he said, referring to the dusk-to-dawn curfew inside the still dangerous city limits of New York.

She let out a light laugh. "Sounds like a plan to me." With that, she took his hand and led him over to her crowded sitting area. Once he was on the couch, she sat against him, draped her legs over his lap and snuggled up against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in tight, shutting his eyes for several moments until she said. "I wasn't with anyone, you know. The past year and a half. I waited for you."

He gazed down at her curiously. "Even though you didn't know if I was alive or not?" She nodded and he grinned. "I did the same." She laughed and hugged him.

Though he knew it was improbable and borderline impossible, Rick knew one day he and Kate would find each other again. He didn't know how or when, but somehow the world would right itself once more and then they would be able to find each other. No matter how long it took, he knew he had to find her again, because he was certain she was the person with whom he would spend the rest of his life—which, now that the virus had been quelled, he hoped to be a very long time.

"Where are you living now?"

"Not too far away, actually." He told her. He then went on to explain that after they were separated he was picked up by two men who volunteered to take him back to their gated golf course community safe haven and give him food and water. He'd stayed with them for a few days until it became clear they were unwilling to help him search for her, so he set out on his own. He'd found a bicycle and managed to make it back to the garage from where she was taken to resume his search, but after a few weeks he'd busted one of the bicycle tires and had never found her.

After his failure, he figured he had no choice but to move south and attempt to find the Philadelphia safe haven, which he never ended up finding. By that point in the year, the weather was turning cooler and, by dumb luck, he stumbled upon an underground bunker someone had obviously built in their apocalyptic planning. As an apocalyptic planner himself, this delighted him. While the below ground room wasn't as nice as their treehouse, it was a decent enough place for him to spend the cold, winter months safely.

Once the last of the snow melted, he decided to return to the tree house in case Kate did the same, but he ended getting corralled into a community just outside Trenton and had been there ever since.

"For the past few months I've been working with my banks to get access to my assets once more and with my publishers in hopes they'll agree to my semi-autobiographical tales of survival." He concluded.

She gazed up at him, amused. "How's that going?"

He grimaced. "Not as well as I'd hoped. Turns out they don't think there will be enough market for it. As they put it: anyone who's alive now survived the past two years; they don't want to read about it."

Kate nodded. "Can't say I entirely disagree. Maybe in a few years?"

He nodded. "Maybe. In the meantime I'm trying to find out how long it'll be before we can start living out on Long Island again; my apartment building was destroyed so the Hamptons house is all I have left."

"You're living in one of the government apartment buildings now?" She questioned; he confirmed with a nod. "Well…you could move in with me, I think. From what I hear they've been pretty good about reuniting people, even if this housing was originally meant for government employees."

Rick leaned down and kissed her. "That sounds perfect."

"Yeah? Not too soon?"

"We lived together before!"

"Well, yeah, but that was different. This is…real-er…kind of." She finished with a half-laugh.

He skimmed his hand beneath her jaw and rested his thumb against the end of her chin. "Well, in that case, I can't wait to have a real-er relationship with you. In fact, I plan on never letting you out of my sight again. You don't have to work tomorrow, do you?"

"Rick!" She half-laughed, half-scolded. "That is not only ridiculous but entirely impractical."

"No it's not. I'll just follow you to work and hang out with you all day."

She rolled her eyes. "You're not doing that."

"I could! It would be fun! Remember the good old days when we were in that tree house twenty-four-seven?"

She smiled and gently wrapped her hands around his forearm. "Yes, I remember, and I can't wait to spend a lot more time with you, but let's be realistic here—sooner or later we were going to drive each other nuts in that treehouse."

Rick moved his head back and forth. He wasn't sure he entirely agreed with her statement, but definitely saw her point. "Okay, fine. We won't spend _every_ moment together; we can each have one hour to ourselves a day."

She laughed loudly and pulled him into a hug. "I missed you a lot, you know?"

As he had missed her more than a lot, he did actually completely understand her sentiments. As a response, he kissed her head, pulled her close and sighed, "I love you, Kate."

Her fingers skimmed through his hair and she said, "Love you too." Rick shut his eyes, tucked his head against her neck and let out a relieved exhale; he knew he'd never have to let go again.

* * *

 _A/N: Again, thank you all so much for reading - I truly appreciate all your reviews/follows. You have all really encouraged me to stick with writing even now that the show is over._

 _As for what's next...I'm thinking Murphy's Law because its done-ish, though needs some revisions. Give me a week or so :)_

 _Thanks again! See you soon!_


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